A Place Where No One Lives
by Habetrot
Summary: Maureen Stanley has just moved to Forks, and is thankful for it...when she doesn't want to throw a knitting needle at her cousin's head. Meet the Mary Sue who knows exactly how contrived everything is-and refuses to buy into the angst.
1. A Place Called Forks

**I wrote this story not because I am a very good writer, but as a vent. In that function, it worked. It's up to everyone else to decide if it's a good read. Or, if it **_**is**_** a horrible read, if the story was only bad because I effectively mimicked the gist of Meyer's abysmal writing style. **

Maureen Stanley has just moved to Forks, and is thankful for it. Feeling compassion for human beings can be very painful—especially when human beings go out of their way to damage each other through horrific acts of murder, rape and theft on a small scale…or extortion, slavery and genocide on a grand scale. Being somewhat unhuman herself, Maureen doesn't feel obligated to live in a world like that.

So she's moved to Forks, Washington…a place where the only suffering people feel is the kind they inflict on themselves, which they blow out of proportion in order to pretend that their pain is real. It's the perfect place to focus on her personal passions, and let the world go past her. The only problem is actually living, second by second, with people who make their lives into a pointless drama.

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A Place Called Forks

**August 25****th****, 2003.**

Maureen slid into the front passenger seat of the cab, the scent of chemical spray strong in her nose. It mingled with the natural odor of the slick leather seats, making the whole cabin of the car smell like sour, tangy fruit. The pine scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror only added to the smell, instead of masking it.

The flight from Sacramento to Seattle hadn't been the most pleasant for Maureen. The pressure had played havoc with her sinuses, and a baby had been sick in the row behind her. While the stench was awful, the usual infant screams were blissfully absent. Mostly the baby just whimpered.

_Poor little b*stard was probably more than jut airsick._ Maureen thought, scrubbing a hand through her short, dishwater blonde hair. _I bet he didn't want to be on that plane any more than I did, and he had the flu on top of it._

Maureen was only fifteen years old, and knew she wasn't the sharpest card in the deck. But she was pretty sure that having fewer babies would do the world some good. It would do the babies some good, too. You couldn't be miserable if you weren't alive to feel anything.

Which was a dumb, improvable sort of logic in its own right. But it felt correct to her.

After the plane landed, Maureen had taken a coach bus to Port Angeles. This was much more comfortable, as she could crank open a window. But by the time the bus reached the town, Maureen was fidgeting. She smoothed the fabric of her pants over her thighs, and fiddled with the buttons on her white cotton shirt.

She'd put her knitting needles away, worried that she'd mess up the tension of the stitches. When it came to her work, Maureen was a bit of a perfectionist. It had taken her years to turn natural talent into real skill, and she hated throwing what she'd learned away, just because she got impatient.

Normally, Maureen liked to take the time to work through her impatience—but what was coming up would take more than a little concentration. She wanted it over and done with. She wanted out of here.

As soon as the bus reached the Port Angeles bus depot, Maureen called the cab service her Uncle had recommended. Both he and her Aunt were working that day, and didn't want to make the two-hour round trip to come pick her up. So they'd persuaded her Father to give her money for a long-distance cab drive, with the assurance that her cousin would be home, to help her settle in.

The cab showed up in less than twenty minutes. Maureen walked out of the bus depot to flag him down, eyes averted from the depot's **HAVE YOU SEEN ME?** corkboard, plastered with the faces of missing children and teens.

_How many were dead? How many were suffering fates worse than death?_

Maureen shut her eyes, willing herself not to think about it.

The driver helped her load the two giant steamer trunks and one giant duffle bag into the cab. Only one steamer actually fit in the cab's trunk—the other trunk and the duffle bag were awkwardly wedged into the backseat. Maureen kept her backpack with her, dropping it on her feet as she belted herself in.

The cabbie slid into the driver's seat. He'd introduced himself as George, and he seemed pleasant enough.

"Long trip?" He asked.

Maureen smiled. "Ah, long enough."

The drive was fairly quiet. George asked a few more questions, and Maureen's responses were polite, but brief. She'd come from Sacramento, California. She was going to stay with her Uncle, his wife and daughter. Yes, it was more permanent than a simple visit. Yes, Washington was pleasant enough.

Soon the pair descended into comfortable silence, George driving while Maureen watched the world fly by. Her fingers itched to be purling, pulling, untangling—something, _anything_. But Maureen kept her hands still.

After forty-five minutes or so, Maureen began to take slow, careful breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Over and over, never speeding, never slowing.

Her fingers twitched. She clenched them into fists. This was no time for spun fiber. This was an altogether different sort of thing.

_A different sort of thing. A different sort of place._ Maureen thought. She touched her tongue to the roof of her closed mouth, continuing her full, even breaths. She blinked when she had to, but otherwise kept her eyes open and focused, concentrated on the road before her, beyond the road itself.

_To deny reality is madness. Madness is a different perspective. To deny reality is madness. Madness means a different perspective. _

Maureen's palms were sweaty. _Find a new perspective._

It took less than ten minutes. Between one blink and the next, it was done.

George glanced over at his fare as the girl beside him let out a shuddery exhalation.

"You okay?" He asked.

Maureen nodded, raising a hand to her cheek. "I'm fine." She said. She blinked rapidly, looking around. "We're almost there, aren't we?"

"Another fifteen minutes to the address you gave me, at most." George said.

"Thank you." Maureen said. Her tone was more than just polite—it was full of gratitude, and unshed tears. Glancing at her again, George saw that her eyes were wet.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" He didn't really want to get involved—but the girl was crying in_ his_ cab.

"Yeah." Maureen said, wiping a hand across her eyes. "It's just so…so _green_."

"Yeah, lotta woods." George agreed awkwardly. "Come mid-September it'll all be different colors. But even at the end of August, it's plenty green."

Maureen smiled at the forest speeding by. _Green indeed. The vocabulary here is endless. Viridescent, virescent, olive, lime, pea green, _glaucous_. A mosaic of jade, a study in emerald!_

And it was so verdant…grassy, leafy, _verdurous_.

Maureen bit back a grin. The words came so easily, but she had no desire to speak them. She'd have to watch that her tongue remained her own, and didn't pick up the ridiculous syntax of this place. She might fall in otherwise, and take everything she saw seriously.

That was the last thing Maureen wanted. There was no point to peace of mind, if one's mind forgot what peaceful really meant.

_It's green. And numb. Everything is numb here. Nothing has to suffer, not really._

From around a curve in the road, a sign came into view. WELCOME TO FORKS.

Maureen settled back in her seat, smiling.

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Please Read and Review. I don't care if you hate it, or if your reaction is lukewarm. I just want to know what people think about it. The archives here are pretty big, but I think the angle I'm coming from is fairly unique.

Next chapter tomorrow.


	2. Unpacking

Next chapter up. Thanks to Jannie for the review. I'd love input from more people. : )

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Unpacking

Maureen had to admit that Forks was abysmally tiny compared to the other towns she'd lived in. But that was hardly a reason to look down her nose at it. A town was better judged by other things…its inhabitants, for one. Or its ghosts and its scars, if one chose to see how the past affected a place. From what she could tell though, all three were fairly innocuous.

_As it should be._ Maureen thought. Innocuous was the best word for this place…it seemed barely there, or ready to come to pieces for lack of any substance. But it wouldn't. Maureen could tell.

The cab driver pulled up outside a tan, brown-roofed house. It wasn't the prettiest home Maureen had ever seen, but it was decently large, and looked about fifty years old. She scooted out of the cab, and trotted up to the door. She rang the bell once, and only had to wait thirty seconds. The girl who opened the door wore a pink t-shirt and blue jeans. And she was exactly the same height as Maureen. That hadn't changed.

"Maureen! Hi!" Jessica swooped in for a hug, which Maureen returned. "Oh my God, it's great to see you! Like, how was your trip?"

_Nothing's changed completely, here._ Maureen though. _They're still my family._

"It was long." Maureen admitted. "I'm glad to be here. It's good to see you after such a long while."

"I know. The last time was, what, a year ago?" Jessica laughed.

"Year and a half." Maureen said. "We had the big Christmas reunion at Grandma Stanley's house."

"Oh, right!" Jessica smiled. "I remember."

Here was something different. Jessica was smiling and laughing, and seemed genuinely enthused—but there was a hint of discomfort in her eyes, a tension under her words. It sobered Maureen, reminded her that this wasn't some pleasant visit.

_She's going to ask for the details._ Maureen thought. When they were younger, Jessica had proudly claimed she was going to be a detective, all so she could find out the answers to everything. Childhood curiosity led to teenage gossiping.

"I have to pay the driver, Jess." Maureen said. "Will you help me get my stuff in the house, after I do?"

"Sure thing!" Jessica said.

Cabbie George was paid (Maureen gave him a large tip—gas mileage notwithstanding, he'd driven her nearly a hundred miles) and he helped Maureen wrestle her trunks and duffle bag out of the car, before driving off. Easy enough. But getting the luggage into the house was another matter entirely. Maureen couldn't fault Jessica for her lack of muscles—she hardly had any herself, not when it came to lifting extremely heavy boxes. But she imagined the sight of two short teenage girls trying to carry a giant steamer trunk was extremely pathetic.

"Whew!" Jessica sighed, when they got the first trunk up onto the second floor landing. "I hope you have a boss speaker system in there, to make it all worth it!"

Maureen smiled ruefully. "Sorry, not too much by way of entertainment technology." The two girls tramped back downstairs. "My computer and an ipod are about it."

"Then what made it so goddamn heavy?" Jessica grumbled.

"Let's get the rest of it before I tell you." Maureen said, exiting the front door with Jess following her.

"Hey, I like your necklace!" Jessica said, pointing at the green choker around Maureen's neck. "And your pants. They match your eyes, I think."

Maureen smiled. "You _think_?"

"Well, it compliments them." She squinted at Maureen's face. "What color are your eyes, exactly?"

"My driver's permit says they're gray." Maureen grabbed one handle on the second trunk, as Jessica grabbed the other.

"You don't think they're gray?"

"More like I just don't know. They sort of shift around."

"Weird! So what, you're a chameleon?" Jessica giggled.

Maureen bit her tongue in irritation, and counted to three in her head.

"Despite how stupid it sounds, it's actually not weird for human eyes to change color." Maureen said. "Or rather, for eyes to _look_ like they are different colors. Irises, especially ones with lighter pigments, are strongly affected by light and the presence of other colors. If I put on a green sweater and stood outside on a sunny day, my eyes would probably look different than if I put on a blue sweater and stood outside on a cloudy day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But the difference is subtle, anyhow." Maureen said. "It certainly doesn't happen with bright blue eyes, or deep mahogany eyes. The colors change, but stay muted. Hence, they wrote gray on my driver's license."

The second steamer trunk was a little bit lighter to carry. And the duffle bag, while heavy and unwieldy, could be managed by one person. Maureen carried it slowly up the stairs on her back, while Jessica dragged the trunks into the farthest room on the right, making noises about how she hoped no one would notices the scratches on the floor. Maureen stepped through the doorway, and dropped the duffle as gently as she could. It was a small room—she remembered it had been an infrequently used study in her younger days, and then more of a storage space than anything else. It was bare now, save for a dresser, a desk, and a bed that was really more of a cot. It smelled clean, though, and the window had a nice view of the backyard.

Jessica was fumbling with the locks on the first trunk, and flipped it open before Maureen could make a protest. Her expression of curiosity faded into a look of utter confusion.

"Blocks of wood?" Jessica lifted a piece out of the trunk, half-wrapped in a towel.

"My loom." Maureen said. "I'll have to put it back together, obviously. And the spinning wheel is in there too, along with a few other things."

"Spinning wheel…?" Jessica seemed to be taking a few minutes to process the information, so Maureen took the time to unzip her duffle and start unpacking. She'd tried to prevent as many of her clothes from wrinkling as possible, but the linen shirts were pretty well wadded up. She started separating them into a laundry pile.

Scrabbling sounds. Jessica was opening the other trunk. "Maureen, is this all you brought?"

"All my tools and supplies." Maureen said, carefully refolding her garments before slipping them into the dresser drawers. She was glad to see that the closet, while small, had a collection of bare plastic hangers in it. "The loom, sewing machine, knitting needles—"

"There's a hammer in here!"

"If it's got red tape around the handle, it's for putting the loom back together. The other one's for putting grommets on corsets, but I think it's underneath the books at the bottom."

Jessica fished a book titled 5,000 Years of Textiles out of the second trunk. There was a moment of silence.

"Sooo…" Jessica said. "I take it you're still on a big fabric kick."

Maureen laughed. "That's a bit of an understatement, but yeah."

"But what about your _toothbrush_? School supplies?"

"All in the duffle, or I figured I could find what I needed at the local store." Maureen said, putting the last pair of socks in the dresser. "I know it's ironic, but for someone who sews as much as I do, I don't actually own a lot of clothes. Or much of anything else."

"No stuffed animals? Mementoes?"

"I've got the stuffed cow from when I was a baby, but that's about it." _Most of my mementoes were people. And the things I made for them._

"The trunks belonged to your mother, though…right?"

Now they were getting into awkward territory. Maureen closed the last dresser drawer. "Yes."

Jessica shut the trunk. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

Jessica swiveled around, facing Maureen as she knelt on the floor. "What happened to you? Dad told me that you got in trouble, and needed to come live up here. But he wouldn't go into detail."

"Uncle Thomas needs to be less vague." Maureen said.

"So what happened?"

"I got expelled."

"_No_!"

Maureen blanched. The tone of Jessica's voice wasn't one of shock, or concern. She was _scandalized_. Delightfully scandalized. To her, Maureen's problems had all the relevance of a soap opera.

This was a _big _change, and more than just an adolescent shift. Maureen should have anticipated it. What else was there to do in a numb world, except to make mountains out of molehills?

"What did you do?" Jess was thirsty for more information.

"My teachers were being assholes." Maureen said, reciting the narrative she'd worked out. Never mind that it was full of holes. "I started mouthing off to them, calling them awful names and pushing their buttons. One teacher snapped so bad she hit me. They got rid of her too, but I'd caused too much fuss. So I was expelled. That, plus the fact that I'd been…chafing…in the house, my Dad figured sending me to school far away was the best idea."

"What did your step mom say?"

Maureen laughed. "Cathy wanted me to stay, and do 'counseling' with her. I'd rather eat a bucket of sea urchins."

"I thought you liked her."

Maureen suddenly found her head swamped with responses, with exaggerated horror stories she could tell Jessica. This place wanted Cathy to be a one-dimensional bitch.

_Nothing doing._ Maureen thought. _I say what I want._

"She's fine, she's a good person." Maureen said. "She just thinks that delinquent behavior traits can be cured by lots of attention. It felt like smothering."

Maureen sighed, and ran a hand through her hair.

"Anyway, Cathy was pretty much set on home-schooling me. But I told my Dad I wouldn't do it, then I spent the whole summer going on about how it was an awful idea. So he decided to send me here instead."

"Wow. I'm so sorry." Jessica's voice was more sympathetic now, and less greedy for information. But Maureen made a mental note—her cousin was triggered by dirt.

"No need to be." Maureen said. "I'm glad I came here. I didn't like where I was. I think I'm going to be happier here."

"From sunny California to cloudy Washington?" Jessica smirked.

"What do I care about the weather? I'll sew myself a raincoat."

"You can't sew raincoats!"

"Of course, they just spring into existence out of the raincoat gnome's belly button." Maureen said sarcastically. "I can make lots of things, Jess. Even if I didn't use the hideous plastic most raincoats are made of, wool can be very waterproof."

Maureen rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Would you mind giving me some time to unpack? I don't think I'm in a mood for conversation anymore."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

It took a little more persuading, but eventually Jessica left the room. As the door shut, Maureen walked over to the bed, and sat down. The cot springs squeaked—it really was an awful bed. But nothing a goosedown mattress and a couple heavy quilts couldn't fix. Maureen added them to her mental checklist, along with curtains for the window, and maybe a doily for the dresser. No harm in making things look nice.

Nice room, nice home, nice town, nice place. Things were going to be fine.

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Please read and review.


	3. These Are The Rules

Thanks to Tige for the two reviews. And to Sims addict, who favorited this story. I appreciate reviews, though. Even if just to say 'cool' or 'I hate this'. I don't actually know who's reading this until they review. So please do so.

And for anyone who's really wanting the Cullens to show up, wait another couple chapters. This story is a bit on the long side, so it takes until the fifth chapter to get to them.

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These Are The Rules

It only took Maureen four hours to set up her room to her liking. Putting the loom back together was the biggest chore. But Maureen had done it before, so it wasn't too hard.

She dragged the steamer trunks down to the basement (Jessica showed her where the storage space was) and stuffed the duffle bag onto a high shelf on her closet. She borrowed a laundry basket to put her wrinkled clothes in. She'd wash them first thing tomorrow morning.

The sewing machine went on the desk. It was a tight fit next to her laptop, but since both items were portable Maureen didn't think it was a big issue. Her books went on top of the dresser, and the rest of her tools went into various desk drawers—the smallest reserved for things like pencils and staplers, things she'd need for school.

Maureen knew she was lucky to be starting at the beginning of the school year, but the idea of school still made her wince. That was the awful dichotomy, wasn't it? Private or public, schools were institutions, effectively cultural prisons. But they were necessary, and not just for education. Never mind that without a high school diploma one's job opportunities were next to nothing…socially, a person who didn't experience the dynamics of school would fail to relate as much to their peers.

_Damned if you go, damned if you don't._ Maureen thought bitterly. But never mind. This place was nudging her again, trying to tell her something…here, aside from parental disapproval there _were_ no real consequences for missing school. You could skip nearly every day, and be no more the ignorant for it.

_I'll have to remember that._ Maureen mused. _I could get an awful lot of knitting done, if I don't have to pay attention to the teachers._

She was sketching out a design for her bed's first quilt when her Aunt Joan came home. Maureen came down the stairs and greeted her warmly. Joan was nice enough…a little too focused on material possessions, if her pantsuit and gold jewelry were any indication. But she meant well. Just as with Jessica, though, there was the awkward undercurrent.

Maureen had long ago given up hoping that people would stop treating each other's flaws and problems like the pink elephant in the room. After all, she judged people left and right herself. That wasn't much different.

Maureen helped set the table for dinner, and her Uncle Thomas was home in another half-hour. He'd brought 'celebratory pizza' and Joan had made a salad, insisting that vegetables were important. Maureen liked what she saw—the Stanleys made a nice family, if not a large one. Three brown heads in various shades, all concerned with the details of everyday life, wishing the world well.

The conversation was pleasant—the adults asked after their relatives in Sacramento, and Maureen wanted to know everything about Forks…the better to get around when she and Jessica started school next week. Aunt Joan promised to give her a tour on Saturday, although she warned there wasn't too much to see. Maureen also asked about the woods, and her Uncle described a few of the more popular hiking trails. Maureen didn't press him further—she doubted he knew anything about what she wanted to find, and she was sure he wouldn't take kindly to the knowledge that his niece planned to go walking off-trail.

"Your father mentioned you still make clothes and quilts and things—there's a crafts store in Port Angeles." Her Aunt said. "It's small, but I hear it's a great little shop."

"It should be sufficient." Maureen smiled. "Most of what I need I can order online anyway."

"If you take part in the chores, allowance is five dollars a week." Her Uncle said bluntly, his tone warning her that his wallet was not an open book to fuel her hobbies.

"Sure!" Maureen said, flashing him a cheesy grin to hide her irritation. "I've got plenty of money saved up in an account, anyway."

"You've got a bank account?" Jessica blurted, eyes wide.

"I made a little money at craft fairs, selling my stuff." Maureen smiled. "It helped to fund more projects, so I figured it might as well earn some interest."

After dinner, Aunt Joan insisted she could take care of the dishes, and sent Jessica to take out the trash. Maureen was heading back upstairs, when her Uncle caught her arm.

"I'd like to talk you for a minute, Maureen." The words were polite, but his tone brooked no argument.

"Of course." They walked into the living room, but her Uncle made no move to sit down—or to let go of her arm. Uncle Thomas fixed her with a serious expression.

"I care about Howard—and you—very much." He began. "So I'm perfectly willing to take you into my home. Your father's helping to support you, and in the end, we're family. What's mine is yours."

Maureen could hear the 'but' coming a mile away.

"But I need you to understand, Maureen, that my house is not a playground. And neither is this town. I refuse to coddle or spoil you, and I will not stand for any petulant tantrums. You had some trouble with authority in your old school—I understand. California is a soft, stupid state, with too many liberals and smart-asses making excuses for wild children. I know Howie indulged you—even when you started behaving like your mother."

Maureen felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, as a wave of anger washed over her. She bit her tongue to keep it in check. Her Uncle continued.

"Now, Howard swears for all the trouble you've caused, you never had a substance problem. And looking at you now, I believe him. But your disrespect and willfulness ends here. We give Jessica a fairly wide leash, and I'm prepared to give you the same—but you cannot break any of our rules. You come home by curfew, you get your homework done on time, and you do what we tell you."

"Obviously the high school will know that you were expelled, and the reasons for it. And I'm going to inform the Chief of Police here in town. He's a good man, and he deserves to know. He won't persecute you without reason. Otherwise, I have no intention of advertising your delinquency—provided your behavior shows your bad days are over. And I will not tolerate it if they aren't. If you so much as mouth off to a teacher here, or even to your Aunt, I will send you back to your father so fast you'll get whiplash. Do you understand?"

Maureen nodded.

"I understand, Uncle Thomas." She said. "You don't have to worry. I intend to be on my best behavior."

Her Uncle nodded—he looked a little worn out from his monologue.

"Good." He said. "I'm glad we had this talk."

He let go of her arm, and walked back into the kitchen.

Maureen stood still for a moment, then headed towards the stairs. She walked up them slowly, turning the 'conversation' over in her head.

It wasn't a big deal. It was just annoying, more than anything. It frustrated Maureen when people talked down to her based on the falsehoods she purposely spread as truth. But she had no one to blame but herself…she'd pulled this story together, so she had to stand by it.

She didn't want her Uncle to know the truth. So she'd follow the rules when it suited her, and bend them to do what she wanted to do. She had no doubt she'd be able to pull the wool over her family's eyes. It was easy.

_More like sociopathic._ Maureen shook the thought off. Madness was part and parcel of what she was, and she'd come here so she _wouldn't _have to question it.

Instead of turning towards her room, Maureen impulsively walked to the left, and slipped into the second floor bathroom. She flicked the light on, then shut the door and locked it.

It was a big bathroom, with checkered tiles in white and toothpaste green. The mirror was big as well, taking up a third of the wall.

She hadn't looked at her reflection since she'd gotten here. Maureen took a step forward, turned and faced the mirror.

She blinked. "I'm paler."

And that was really the only difference. Not that Maureen had expected much change—Forks was certainly similar to the last place she'd been, not just because part of her family lived here.

But Maureen observed that her skin was a shade or two paler than it had been before—as if her tan had up and walked off. And her body was a bit thinner. There was less fat on her belly, her thighs. And her cheekbones stood out more.

_I guess this place likes the consumption look._ Maureen thought, smiling a little at the notion. She flipped the light switch down, and left the bathroom.

Stepping into her room, she turned the light on and let herself collapse on the squeaky bed.

"The Spinner in Forks." She said out loud. "What would they say if they saw me here? Would they call me a coward, or say I was clever?"

"Regardless…this is the last week of August, in a year that lacks significance. And I am here, in Forks Washington, as far away from true pain and suffering as the Earth is from the planet Mars. And this is where I will stay. Cross me."

Maureen raised her hand and drew two diagonal lines—an X—across the air over her heart. Then she let her hand fall back on her stomach.

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	4. Jess Needs A Head Check

Thanks to Sim Addict, for letting me know they were present. : ) Everyone else please leave a review as well.

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but we're getting off the ground.

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Jess Needs a Head Check

Aunt Joan was the one who drove them to school the first day. Jessica had asked if she could drive all three of them there, given that she had a permit. But Joan said she was running late, and for that matter wasn't comfortable with Jessica driving.

"You should really be practicing with your father, honey." Aunt Joan said to Jessica. "Maybe it's because I've always been driving _you _around, but I don't like it when you're behind the wheel."

Jessica voiced a short complaint, which was easily shot down. Maureen scoffed under her breath—a parent who freaked out at the thought of their child driving was normal, but awful all the same. It showed they still saw their children as babies, and put no trust in them as real people. Maureen only had a driver's permit herself. But she'd driven plenty of times all the same, with others and (illegally) on her own. The power was exhilarating. Even when driving slowly, the feeling of control over a ton of metal gave her a strong jolt of confidence. It was a power trip, regardless of how safely one was driving.

"We should get to drive once in a while, Aunt Joan." Maureen said out loud. "Jessica's right. Practice is important."

Joan nodded, distracted by the row of cars in front of her.

Forks High School was essentially a small collection of unconnected buildings, scattered across several large fields. Maureen wondered why a town that got so much snow and rain would build a school that required its students to step outside so frequently. It seemed inefficient.

_Another small thing._ Maureen thought dismissively. Damn her if she was going to let them add up.

Joan dropped them both off near the gym, and wished the girls a good first day. Maureen was thankful Aunt Joan hadn't used the term 'wise fool' which Uncle Thomas had been wringing to death for the last seven days.

"What do you think?" Jessica asked, as the pair walked towards the main office.

"Small." Was Maureen's honest reply. "The last school I was at had over a thousand students."

"Holy shit." Jessica's eyes bulged. "What was that like?"

"Easier to get lost in the crowd." Maureen replied honestly. In her high school there had simply been too many people to acknowledge a specific person as 'the bottom of the pecking order'. Ironically, despite the mass of people it had been easier to go off on her own, to find breathing space.

The two girls walked into the office. Two 'stations' had been set up, and the secretaries manning them were handing out schedules. Maureen and Jessica got in the line behind the sign marked 'N-Z'.

"We have Biology I this year." Jessica wrinkled her nose. "I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

"At my school, the freshmen took it first thing." Maureen said. "It was a pain, but not impossible."

"You should lend me your notes." Jessica said.

"I burned them." Maureen grinned. "You know, catharsis. Part of the healing ritual."

"Well, then tutor me." Jessica said, a hint of mock exasperation in her tone.

"There's a difference between recognizing the lessons and _remembering_ the lessons. I'm the sort for person who does the former."

Maureen gave her name to the woman behind the table, who handed her a class schedule, a map and several pamphlets. One pamphlet contained the basic rules of conduct in the school. The others were cheerful propaganda, things like how to do you homework on time, and why drugs were bad.

"Can I see your schedule?" Maureen asked, as they left the office.

Jessica passed it over; Maureen scanned it quickly. "I have all of my morning classes with you." She observed. "Including Biology I. Also Spanish."

"Awesome. I'll be your guide, then let you go off on your own to test the mad skillz I've given you." Jessica said proudly.

"Mad skillz indeed." Maureen checked her schedule. "Where's building 5, then?"

"This way."

There was a coatroom just inside the building, and most people were making use of it—even in early September, the temperature in Forks was a little brisk. Maureen took off the jean jacket that Aunt Joan had loaned her, and tucked her felt cap into the sleeve.

"I'm still not sure what they're going to say about your jumper." Jessica said, worriedly,

Maureen smoothed the jumper down over her lap—it was cherry red cotton, and came down to mid-thigh. Blue glass buttons anchored the two wide straps over her shoulders, and the edges were decorated with small roses embroidered in white thread. Underneath she wore a white linen shirt with elbow-length sleeves, and a pair of blue wool leggings that went down into her boots.

"One, who the hell is 'they'?" Maureen said matter-of-factly. "Second, what's wrong with my jumper?"

"It's a jumper." Jessica repeated, as if that made it obvious.

"So?"

"So it makes you look like a little kid."

"Jess, I'm fifteen. I am a little kid."

"Fifteen isn't little!"

"Only because that's the longest we've been alive. Under eighteen is young. Hell, under _thirty _is young. Anyway, none of my clothes look particularly mainstream, and I've been wearing them for a whole week. You never complained."

"We weren't in school last week."

"Look, I made what I'm wearing and I'm proud of it. It's my art. If it embarrasses you, pretend I'm Michelangelo and I'm wearing the Sistine Chapel."

"That doesn't help. Or make any sense."

Maureen giggled; she couldn't help herself. "Relax, Jess. If anyone cares, it's their problem." _But they won't know it's their problem. Ugh._

As it turned out, the problem _was_ what other people said…and did. While Maureen's clothes were brought up a few times, the majority of inquisitive students seemed chiefly interested in Maureen herself—for no real reason.

"Hey, Maureen Stanley right?"

"Whoa, Jessie's cousin, right? Cool!"

"You're from California!"

She was assaulted at the beginning of every class with a flurry of questions, and plenty of students chose to just stare at her, like she was a zoo animal.

It was getting very annoying.

"Jess, is everyone here really that bored? That starved for gossip and new faces?" Maureen asked at the end of second period. "Do none of them have access to the internet?"

"Oh Maureen, be positive." Jess said. "People are interested in you!"

"I didn't come here to be interesting." Maureen grumbled. This was ridiculous. She hadn't _done_ anything to provoke so much attention. In her experience, such excitable behavior over a New Girl was bizarre and uncalled for.

_This place is built to idolize the new, and make it special._ Maureen observed. _No matter how mundane it actually is. _

The classes themselves went quickly enough, even when it required changing buildings. Each class was more or less an overview of the semester's lesson plan, along with the teacher's personal policies about homework, tests and grading. Maureen paid strict attention, trying to get a feel for each teacher. The first one was fairly lax—a plus, since the early hour was ideal for dozing. The rest seemed more hard assed; but Maureen couldn't tell exactly how strict they were. Time would tell.

Inquisitive students notwithstanding, by the time the bell rang for lunch Maureen was bored stiff. She'd purposely not brought any knitting or sewing to school, so that she could learn the ropes without a preferred distraction. But the lack of anything constructive to do was making her fidgety.

"Inside or outside?" Maureen asked. Although the weather was cool and the sky was cloudy, it was apparently nice enough that some of the student body had opted to sit outside.

Jessica squinted, peering at the outside benches. "Inside. I don't see my friends."

Inside was distinctly warmer. But the fluorescents were a little blinding, and the air contained the steamy fart smell of potatoes and overcooked vegetables. Maureen had opted for the bag lunch, unsure if the cafeteria food would be crappy or not. But although there appeared to be a Tuna Surprise on the menu, pizza and hamburgers were also available. Maureen made a mental note to take advantage of that.

She felt a sudden sharp tug on her arm; Jessica was pulling her with rather excessive force towards a table of chattering girls. With a degree of speed and subtlety that Maureen didn't know Jessica had, her cousin slid them both into chairs at this table.

"Hey, guys!" Jessica said, smiling her most endearing smile.

A chorus of hi's and hey's sounded out, some more reluctant than others.

_Dear lord, are we sitting with people who don't want us?_ Maureen thought.

The answer turned out to be no, although Maureen assumed it had something to do with Jess brown nosing the blonde girl who was clearly queen bee at this table.

Whatever. It wasn't Maureen's problem. She unwrapped her lunch, and quietly began to eat.

"This is your cousin from California, then?" The blonde girl asked, gesturing her head at Maureen.

"Oh! Yeah, this is Maureen." Jess said. "She's staying with me and my family. She's really cool."

"Hey all." Maureen said. The chorus of hellos was repeated, and Jess introduced the girls by name. Beth, Angela, Ashley, Lauren, June—Maureen lost track after the fifth. They all looked sort of the same.

_I'm sure they all have unique traits and personalities._ She thought.

Maureen's eyes widened as Forks nudged her again…with a big fat NEGATIVE. Apparently, personality was _not _the defining trait of half these girls—they were effectively wallpaper.

_Wow. So much for the value of an individual life._ Maureen thought bitterly. At least here, the irony was smothered by the numbness.

Maureen realized someone had asked her a question. "I'm sorry, what was that?" She said.

"You're from California!" Jane—or was it June?—repeated. "Do you know any movie stars?"

"No." Maureen said.

"I like your outfit." The blonde girl—Lauren—said. "The colors are great, very nouveau-schoolgirl."

"Thanks!" Maureen smiled. So much for Jess' theories.

"Where did you get it?" Lauren asked, adjusting the sleeves of her low-cut, black and white print top.

"I made it."

"…_oh_."

Maureen's smile faded. There were whole paragraphs hidden in that 'oh'…lines and lines chock full of superiority.

"Yeah. The shirt, the jumper, everything." Maureen said.

"She likes to sew." Jess threw in, perhaps sensing the sudden tension.

Lauren casually dug her fork into her salad. "I suppose it's useful, if buying clothes is too expensive."

_Ah, an attempted blow at my socio-economic status. Nice try, b*tch._

"Actually, it can be more expensive to make clothes than to buy them." Maureen said, nonchalantly. "Shopping at Goodwill, the Salvation Army, or even Wal-Mart is cheaper. But there are ways around that—like buying a big sweater at Goodwill, then unraveling it and using the yarn to knit a cool hat, or crochet a flowery shawl."

"Wow, you must really like making things." Angela voiced.

"My parents made me take Home Ec. last year." One of the other girls said. "I _hated_ it. So much work! If making aprons and pillows taught me anything, it's that it's better to pay other people to make stuff for you than to make it yourself."

Maureen bit down on her turkey sandwich, as a red haze of rage quietly filled her vision. She chewed, slowly—the longer she had her mouth full, the more time she would have to avoid speaking.

Luckily by the time she swallowed, Lauren had a new question.

"So, why'd you move up here to live with your cousin?" Lauren asked.

"She was expelled." Jess said, before Maureen could answer.

Maureen whipped her head around. _Jess! What the hell?_

"Really?" Lauren's eyes lit up.

_Oh. _That_ was what the hell._ Maureen grimaced—Jess was using her as a story to propel them both into the spotlight.

"Yeah, there were these as*hole teachers, and she had to make trouble to get away from them." Jessica announced. "Otherwise they would keep sending her to detention and making her life a living hell…"

…_that's not exactly the story I told you, but thanks for painting me as a cool anti-establishment rebel, Jess._ Maureen thought wearily.

"…so her Dad and step mom sent her up here." Jessica finished.

"Oh, so where's your real Mom?" Lauren asked. She had the decency to address the question to Maureen, but Jess leapt in again.

"She walked out on Maureen and her Dad." Jess said. She turned to Maureen. "When you were like, nine, right?"

Maureen had to grip the edge of the table to keep from slapping Jessica across the face. What was she_ thinking_?

She wasn't thinking, obviously. Maureen took another bite out of her sandwich, at an utter loss for anything else to do.

"That's awful." Lauren said, her voice anything but compassionate. She turned back to Maureen. "Is that why you made the teachers mad? Do you feel like it was your fault that she left?"

Maureen swallowed, feeling the corner of her eyelid twitch in anger.

"Ask a real question." She said.

While still nasty, Lauren's expression was worth it. "Huh?"

"You're asking rhetorical questions." Maureen took a quick swig of orange juice, hoping she could keep her voice level. "You don't expect me to give a real answer…and if I did, you wouldn't care. You're just gleefully scandalized about my dirty laundry, and want to draw out my discomfort to make yourself look superior."

It took Lauren a moment to recover, but her response was predictably deflective.

"Well," She sniffed. "If you don't want to talk about it, fine. I guess it must be a_ touchy subject_."

_More touched than your bony ass will ever be, you ugly stick._ Maureen bit her tongue. From the sidelong looks Jessica was giving her, she'd already dug the hole deep enough.

"What the hell were you doing?" Jessica practically screamed as the two girls walked out of the cafeteria. "Lauren's probably furious at me! What if she won't let me sit with her anymore?"

Maureen winced. Between Jessica's shrill tone and the end-of-lunch bell, she felt half deaf.

But not deaf enough to miss Jessica's use of 'me' instead of 'us'. _Blood thicker than water, my ass. _

"What were _you_ doing?" Maureen snapped back. "I haven't been in this school a full day, and you tell everyone you know that my Mother is a child-neglecting deadbeat? What the f*ck, Jessica?"

"Well she is!" Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Sorry, but it's true, right? She took off, just like that, no explanation. Like she didn't care what anybody thought. If she wasn't messed up, why else would she do that?"

_Because she had infinitely better places to be, and I for one don't blame her._ Maureen bit the words back again. Her teeth were starting to form a dent in her tongue.

"Jessica, will you just, for the love of pete, stop babbling all my dirty secrets?" Maureen asked. "I could do without the whole school thinking of me as some psycho delinquent. It would make things easier."

"Nobody thinks you're a psycho delinquent." Jessica snapped. Several heads turned in the crowded hallway. Maureen grimaced, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She hated that feeling.

_Great. Embarrassed about being embarrassed. I think, therefore I am. I shame, therefore I am…a teenage idiot._

"I'm going to my next class." Maureen said. "I think I've had enough of your 'guidance' for one day."

Maureen spent the rest of the school day in a haze of frustration and anger. She barely looked at the people around her, and when someone asked her a question—student or teacher, it didn't matter—her answer was short and uninviting.

This place was supposed to make her numb. It wasn't supposed to have any real tragedies, any big stuff.

_This isn't 'big stuff'._ She gently reminded herself. _This is just trashy gossip. What was the gossip, anyway? Nothing deep. Just a façade about expulsion, and how everyone thinks I have a crazy Mother._

Maureen's mother _was_ crazy, of course. But no more crazy than Maureen was. And she'd taken off for better places, with Maureen's blessing.

Hell, it was pretty much what Maureen had done, in coming here.

_Do you miss her?_ Maureen asked herself.

_A bit. But we parted on good terms, and she's been gone a long while. It's more that I miss—_

Maureen squeezed her eyes shut until she saw white. _Numb, numb, numb._ She chanted in her head.

And the numbness came. The inanity of the world around her came in, and washed her thoughts away. She was calm again.

Maureen bumped into Jessica at the end of they day—obviously, as they were both taking the same bus.

Jessica began to apologize profusely—apparently she'd had time to think over what she'd said, and realized why Maureen had been so pissed.

"It's okay, it's okay." Maureen said, reassuring her. "But I don't think Lauren and I are going to get along. I'll sit apart from you guys from now on."

"Are you sure?" Jessica's concern was genuine, but so was the relief in her eyes when Maureen didn't insist that Jessica join her in exile.

"Positive. I like to work on projects at lunch, anyway." Maureen said. "You sit with her and your friends. It's fine."

_You might as well do what you want to do, whether it's talking nonstop or currying favor with the popular sophomore princess._ Maureen thought. After all, in a place like this—where everyone could live without pain—why not do what you liked?

Maureen certainly would. There were sixteen ounces of brown wool in a bag on her desk, and she couldn't think of anything she wanted to do more than card it until it was smooth and clean. She could already see herself spinning it into a good, soft yarn—pressing with her foot and moving her fingers, until she lost herself in the act of construction.

* * *

The next update should be on Monday, as I'm out of town this weekend. Next chapter...the Cullens actually make an appearance. If, you know, that sort of thing is important to you. I hear it is. Apparently Edward is very well liked. For some reason.

Read & Review!


	5. Five People With Special Needs

Here's chapter five up, where our resident vampires make their appearance. Since their arrival into the story is so darn special.

Thanks to everyone reading, please leave a review. For all I know, only three or four people have read this. That's a little depressing.

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Five People with Special Needs

Maureen stayed up late that evening, working. The hours flew by, and she barely glanced at her watch. It was wonderful, if only for the way the time had passed. For Maureen, the best kind of time was the time you weren't aware of.

She'd carded the brown wool, and then spun it all on the wheel. She'd thought momentarily about taking a few days or even a week to finish it all, to savor the process. But once she started, she found she didn't want to stop.

_I ask no questions, I desire no answers._ Maureen thought as she spun. And her request was granted. She slipped into a mindless state, a haze of comfortable nepenthe, aware of nothing but the clicking of the wheel and the swift friction of the wool as she twisted it into a thin, even string. Once it was all spun onto two bobbins, Maureen set up the lazy kate, and plied the two stands into one. She preferred an s-twist for her handspun work, and checked carefully that the twist was even. She was halfway done when dinnertime came at eight, and she answered her Aunt and Uncle's questions with her mind still up in her room.

"Only two teachers gave out homework on the first day?" Uncle Thomas laughed. "You kids have it easy."

"Mm." Maureen assented.

After doing the dishes, Maureen hurried back up to her room, saying she wanted to finish her homework first thing. Jessica said much the same thing, though soon music was blaring from her room. Maureen went straight back to the wheel, and finished plying. After that she strung the yarn into a wide circle, by holding up an arm and looping the yarn between the crease of her elbow and under the arch of her bare foot. She tied the loop closed with a few bits of loose yarn, and went down to the kitchen to wash it in the sink. She descended the stairs quietly, just in case someone might object to her soaking wool in the kitchen. She needn't have worried—her Aunt was doing something in the study, and her Uncle was snoring in the living room, a rerun of some football game blaring on the television.

Maureen plugged the sink, turned on the hot faucet and added a little bit of dish soap—in her experience it worked more or less the same as laundry detergent, and was conveniently located right next to the sink. Maureen did do her homework then, bringing it down to the kitchen table. While the English assignment was easy, the 'weekly math problem' was more of a pain, obviously meant to take time and effort. Irritated, Maureen figured out the basics and scrawled a rough draft explanation of how she'd solved the problem. She'd write it up properly later, when she wasn't so frustrated.

It took and hour and a half for the water to cool. Maureen wrung out the yarn, then emptied the sink and filled it again with cold water. Another hour, and the yarn was free of soap. Maureen had drilled hooks into opposite walls in her room three days ago, and stretched a clothesline cord between them, two feet from the ceiling. Now she stood on a chair and draped the yarn across the clothesline, taking out the ties to make sure the yarn dried evenly. Stepping back, Maureen felt intensely satisfied. It wasn't much, but she had more to show for her time than if she'd spent the whole evening with her nose in a textbook. School achievement was an empty reward in comparison to actual production.

As a result, Maureen woke up the next morning feeling energetic and cheerful. She checked the yarn, delighted to find that it was dry (she silently thanked the central heating system, which kept out the cold and damp). Maureen quickly rolled the brown yarn into a large ball, finishing just in time to **not** beat Jessica to the bathroom. She heard the muffled noise of the shower nozzle blasting on.

"Please don't blow-dry your hair after you get out, I have to pee!" Maureen howled.

"Use the downstairs bathroom!" Was the reply.

Maureen did so, resisting the urge to be irritated. She was lucky to live in a home where there_ was_ another bathroom available. Why should she whine about needing to go down a flight of stairs?

"Screw you, entitlement." Maureen muttered.

She checked her e-mail, and saw that her father had sent her a message—all about how Cathy was doing, how the neighbors were doing, how they all missed her, yadda yadda. Maureen smiled. Her Dad was kind of a homebody, but nobody could say he wasn't sincere in his kindness.

Jessica did vacate the bathroom with enough time for Maureen to take a decent shower. She washed her short, dirt-colored hair, then combed out the tangles with brief, vicious strokes. She put on another pair of wool leggings—black, today—a dark blue wool skirt, and a sky blue cotton shirt with long sleeves. Breakfast was a hurried affair, with Aunt Joan repeatedly checking her watch. Maureen packed her books, then slipped the brown wool and a pair of circular knitting needles into a side pocket. After yesterday's delinquent incident, Maureen felt she deserved a little distraction during the day.

And hey, she could make something for the folks back in California. Mrs. Eberhardt had asked her to make Freddy a Halloween costume, before Maureen's departure had become public knowledge. Maureen could always make him a little something, and then mail it as a gesture of goodwill. And if it didn't reach the Freddy she knew, it would reach_ someone _in this place.

The morning was uneventful—people seemed to be getting used to her presence, as the undeserved questions and attention had slacked off. Maureen cast the brown wool onto her needles during second period, and was able to more or less ignore the teacher. Third period she was told to 'sit up and pay attention' by Mr. Casey, but he didn't notice her knitting.

_I hide what I'm doing for three more years, and then I can do it all the time._ Maureen reassured herself. It wouldn't be awful unless she decided it was.

At lunchtime, Maureen casually slipped away from Jessica, and walked to the cafeteria on her own. She'd wanted to buy something for lunch, like a slice of pizza or a burrito. Something that was tasty and unhealthy. But when she'd asked Aunt Joan for lunch money, she'd been swiftly turned down. Apparently the fridge was still full of leftover turkey slices, just dying to be made into sandwiches. Maureen could have spent her own money on lunch, but she considered that to be a waste. Money was for things like roving and new needles. It mattered what she did, not what she ate.

Slinging her backpack off her shoulder, Maureen scanned the room for a place to sit. She spotted one of Jessica's friends—Angela?—sitting at a table on one end of the room, so Maureen headed straight for the opposite side. She slid into a seat at an empty table close to the wall, and pulled out her lunch bag. Three bites in, and Maureen was bored of eating. She quickly wolfed down the sandwich, and chased it with a long slug from her water bottle. One fun-sized bag of Fritos later, and Maureen had consumed her entire lunch in five minutes.

_That must have looked gross._ Maureen thought. But there were more important things to think about.

Maureen pulled out the brown hat she'd started knitting, and picked up were she left off last period. The wooden needles clicked quietly against each other as she knit in a seamless circle, adding and dropping stitches as necessary. Without fear of discovery by a teacher, the rhythm was easy to fall into.

"You're at our table."

Maureen looked up.

Five albinos were standing around the table, flanking it like cavalry horses. Maureen blinked—okay, not albinos. None of them had white hair, so pigment was definitely a factor in their genetic makeup.

Maureen let her knitting rest on the table. There was an awkward pause.

"This is where we usually sit." The big one who looked like a weightlifter said. He looked sheepish, as if he'd suddenly realized that 'this is our table' was not enough of an explanation.

"Well, it's not marked." Maureen said. "The table, I mean. It's fair game for whoever gets their first. Failing that, there's enough room for six people. You could still sit here."

_The men are attractive._ She observed. _So are the women, for that matter. But someone needs to talk to them about the image they're projecting. They look like they just went shopping at Douche r' Us. High-end designer clothes, which is impressive in this Wal-Marty town…but it's just gussied up prep gear. Their clothing has no soul. Dear lord, how much product is in his hair?_

Right on cue, the one with the exploding douche hair touched his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

"But to be perfectly honest." Maureen continued. "My ass is comfortable where it is."

She waited for a response. None of the teenagers spoke, simply choosing to stare. Maureen wasn't sure if they were attempting a deadly glare, or just had no idea how to retort.

Though maybe the small blonde guy in the back was just constipated, judging from the look on his face. Maureen couldn't fault that. It happened to everyone now and then.

"Again, I don't mind if you sit here." Maureen said, speaking slightly slower that she normally did. "But I'm knitting a baby hat, and I'm kind of on a roll—"

"A baby hat?" This from the blonde girl…who was, now that Maureen looked closer, intensely and unnervingly pretty, even compared to her marble-hewn entourage. "For whom?"

_A baby, duh._ Was Maureen's first thought. She kept it back—none of these stoned-looking albinos had called her a delinquent (yet).

"My next-door neighbor in Sacramento." Maureen said. "Where I used to live. She has a six-month-old. His first Halloween is coming, so I figured I'd make him something cute."

She held up the half-finished cap. "His Mom's an entomologist—studies insects and stuff, right? So it's shaped like a horned beetle, with wings on top and the horn in front."

"That's…really adorable actually." The blonde girl said, letting out a soft, approving laugh.

Maureen grinned. "Thanks, that's very kind of you to say. Do you knit at all?"

"No, but—" The girl suddenly shook her head. "I'm sorry, we have to be going."

The girl spun around, motioning the others to follow her. They sauntered back out the cafeteria door, like J. Crew's personal honor guard.

Maureen was so stunned by the abrupt departure; it took her a moment too long to respond.

"Your social skills are poor!" She shouted after them. But they were already halfway out the door.

"What the fuck?" Maureen muttered.

She put her head down, and fell back into the rhythm of the clicking needles. First vindictive high school girls, and now five Greek statues from the Awkward Brigade…what wonders would _tomorrow's_ lunch hour bring?

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Next chapter will probably go up tomorrow. Please Read & Review, especially if you thought any of this was funny. : )


	6. Prince and Princess

Thanks so much to lil artist and ..wolf. I really really appreciate your comments, and will definitely try to update once a day (except on the weekends, when I'm out of town). Feel free to keep reviewing for every chapter if you want to tell me you liked something.

This is a good time to stick to the story. The introduction is out of the way, and we're getting into the fun parts. :D

Please, if you start reading and like what you see, leave a review so I know you enjoyed it!

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Prince and Princess

Maureen walked to her next class—English—navigating through the crowded hallway in the quick, side-stepping maneuver developed by teenagers in order to avoid bumping into each other. She made it to her class quickly enough, and found the seat she'd sat in the day before. Today the room looked a little clearer—probably due to the fact that she wasn't so angry that it blurred her vision. But it wasn't until she'd put her backpack down and opened her notebook on the table that she realized one of the albinos from lunch was sitting next to her.

He was in the desk directly to her right—the one with the douchy hair. He was wearing a pair of dark, well-cut trouser pants, and a long-sleeved gray turtleneck, probably lambs wool. Now that he wasn't towering over her, Maureen was struck again by how flawless and pale his skin was. Maureen imagined this was what a man would look like if he covered his body in Bioré pore cleansing strips every morning, then hid from the sun in a basement. Maureen looked down, and marked today's date and the lesson title from the blackboard on a fresh sheet of loose-leaf paper.

"Snnnff."

Quiet though it was, the strange noise cut through the buzz of chattering students like a knife.

Maureen turned her head, just in time to see the boy leaning back in his seat. He had a puckered expression on his face, like he'd just bitten into a lemon.

_Did he just _sniff_ at me?_ Maureen thought. _Eh, he's probably just got a cold._

The boy wasn't looking her way, but he obviously knew Maureen was looking at him. He kept glancing at her repeatedly, out of the corner of his eye. It seemed to Maureen that he was torn between reacting and not reacting.

_Enough of this middle-school bullshit._ Maureen turned in her seat to face him

There was a moment of silence. This kid was good at those.

So…you gonna explain to me what all that was about?" Maureen prompted. "At the cafeteria?"

The boy looked at her then, full in the face. His eyes were a bizarre color…they reminded Maureen of those blocks of amber that had five thousand year old bugs trapped in them.

_Freaky._ Maureen thought.

The boy nodded his head, the motion looked stiff and forced. "I'm sorry." He said. The boy smiled. It was a dazzling smile, all in all. But it looked awkward, and just as forced as his nod. "My brother can be very protective."

His voice had a strange lilt to it, almost musical. Maureen hadn't noticed that about the other two when they'd spoken earlier. But now that she thought back, they'd sounded odd too.

"That's your brother? The big guy who has too many muscles in his torso?" Maureen grinned back.

The boy's smile vanished.

"No offense. He's very well built." Maureen said hastily. She hated how people could be so sensitive.

"Well, he…takes a lot of pride in his appearance." The boy smiled again. This smile was less forced. More than that…it was _patronizing_.

_He's laughing at me on the inside._ Maureen thought. She was more curious than angry. _Why?_

"It seems like you all do. "Maureen said out loud. "Once again no offense, but you kind of look like you all stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue."

"I know, you—" The boy abruptly stopped speaking. His face once again became impassive.

There was another pause. The boy seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

_Obviously I'm dealing with a special needs kid here._ Maureen thought. _Not a problem, not a problem…if Cathy had her way, I'd have 'SPECIAL NEEDS CHILD' carved into my forehead. I can be nice to him._

_I can start with formalities._ Maureen decided. She knew how to introduce herself politely; she should have done that first

"My name is Maureen Stanley." Maureen said. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself at the table. You must be…?"

"I'm Edward Cullen." The boy replied through his teeth. Somewhere in the last five seconds, his blank face had become a mask of badly disguised anger.

"Pleased to meet you." Maureen held out a hand. Edward didn't take it.

Maureen put her hand down. "You're being a little rude." She commented. _Crazy or not, he ought to know how to shake hands._

Edward's response was to laugh—it was more of a scoff, though. And his scorn was almost visible.

"_I'm _being rude?" He said. "You've been nothing _but _rude!"

"Hey now!" Maureen's face darkened. "I said 'no offense' for the jokes, and I was polite at the table. It was that blonde girl who turned her back on me in the middle of a sentence."

"My sister, Rosalie." Edward's face sobered from anger back to the blank look.

_This kid has more mood swings than a bi-polar with ADHD._ Maureen thought.

The corner of Edward's mouth twitched visibly, a full-on tic.

"She…she actually wished to apologize to you." Edward said. His words were clipped, as if he were exerting great control over his voice. "Rosalie, that is."

"Well, if she hung around the parking lot when classes let out, we could talk then." Maureen said. "You wouldn't have to be the go-between."

"That would certainly be possible. She's actually sorry for her behavior."

You say that like she's usually_ not_ sorry."

Edward laughed again, his short patronizing scoff. "That would be a fair observation."

_I bet you're not sorry often, either._ Maureen thought. _You have a look of entitlement about you. Like everyone here is an ant, and you're the kid with the magnifying glass. Except…except instead of frying the ants, you put the glass in your pocket and tell them how lucky they are that you're so generously sparing their lives. And then you laugh at them offensively._

Edward's face twitched again. It looked like he was struggling to choose an emotion.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the teacher abruptly began to talk. Edward shut his mouth, and turned to face the black board. Except for the movement of his hand as he wrote, he became still as a statue.

Maureen glanced at him, confused and annoyed. Shrugging dismissively, she faced forward in her own desk, and reached for her knitting needles. She spent the rest of the class writing notes, and finishing the beetle hat.

Maureen's next class also had Edward in it—though he sat in the back, and Maureen had a desk closer to the front. She could practically feel his eyes boring into her head, though. Or she was just being paranoid.

Maureen took time during the lesson to examine her classmates further. She'd been so upset yesterday she might as well have been sitting in a room by herself, for all she'd noticed her peers. They seemed a decent enough lot. Outside of their pointless excitement over having a new classmate from the mythical state of California, they were just regular kids. Most were paying attention to the teacher, and almost all of them looked like they wanted to be elsewhere. One boy with gelled hair—Maureen remembered him talking to her yesterday morning, though she couldn't remember his name—caught Maureen's eye as she scanned the room, and he gave her a smile in greeting—it was brief, but very sweet.

The rest of the day went by quickly, despite Maureen having nothing to work on. It wouldn't always be that easy, though. Maureen made a mental note to bring extra supplies to school each day, in case she finished a project before school ended. Hefting her backpack over one shoulder, Maureen exited the school and headed towards the buses at a leisurely pace.

She looked across the parking lot, trying to see if the blonde girl, Rosalie, was hanging around. It didn't take much effort to find her. She stood clustered with her pasty-skinned comrades next to a silver Volvo, and all five of them stuck out of the crowd like a sore thumb. Maureen made her way towards them, but they all turned towards her before she'd taken three steps in their direction. Rosalie separated from the group, and walked over.

"Hey. Rosalie, right?" Maureen said. She held out a hand.

Rosalie looked down at Maureen's hand like she didn't know what it was. Then she slowly raised her own, and the two girls shook hands.

_Girl needs a pair of warm gloves, and a lighter grip. _Maureen thought._ Ah well. Better than limp and sweaty, anyhow._

Rosalie sniffed. Her face twisted slightly, and she pulled back her hand to brush it across her nose.

"You're Maureen Stanley." Rosalie said. "Edward says you're Jessica Stanley's cousin."

"Well he never _asked_ me if I was, but yes." Maureen was irritated, but not surprised. If the grapevine at this school was as starved for news as it seemed, more than half the student body would know who Maureen was related to.

Rosalie shrugged. "Edward's usually very polite. But he lapses sometimes, especially when he takes offense to something."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Actually, he's cross over how rude you were to him. But _I _think he's blowing it out of proportion, so it's really just funny."

"Er…good to know." Maureen said.

Maureen was struck again by Rosalie's beauty. It wasn't just the way her white pants rested on her hips, or the way her dark red silk shirt accentuated her curves. It was in her face, in her eyes; in the way she carried herself. Even Forks agreed, giving Maureen a playful nudge—Rosalie's appearance was unmatched.

_Here's the fairest of them all._ Maureen thought.

"I wanted to apologize for walking off at lunchtime." Rosalie said. Her tone was pleasant, but she sounded like she'd prepared her words beforehand, and rehearsed them. "It was rude of me. But I don't talk to many people outside of my family. I'm a very private person. We all are. We like to keep to ourselves."

Maureen nodded. "Okay."

"So I hope you won't take offense when I say that we like to sit alone." Rosalie finished. "It's not your problem, but ours."

"Uh, sure." Maureen said. "Yeah, that's fine. I understand wanting to be insular, and having a close-knit group of friends."

_Oh boy, do I._

Rosalie smiled, which made her look even more stunning. For some reason, it made Maureen think of violet silk.

"You'd look good wearing purple, you know." Maureen blurted out. She resisted the urge to say more, to wax poetic—the excessively descriptive language that Forks favored was tugging at her mind.

Rosalie looked surprised for a moment, then smiled.

"Yes, I've heard that before." She said. There was a shade of smugness in her tone, reminiscent of Edward's patronizing smiles.

_Well, so much for humility._ Maureen thought, frowning. _ I suppose she thinks she's superior too. Like brother, like sister._

It didn't matter. Much like everything else here, it was more of a contrived conflict than an actual problem.

"I've to got catch the bus." Maureen said. "Maybe I'll see you around. What year are you?"

"I'm a junior." Rosalie had stopped smiling. "You probably won't see me around."

"…well okay, have a good day!" Maureen said, as she turned to walk away. It was an obnoxious farewell, but better than the awkward 'oh' that had been Maureen's first reaction.

_Poor social skills indeed…what kind of response did she expect from that last part?_ Maureen thought grumpily as she climbed the steps onto the bus. Edward and Rosalie were a piece of work. And for all she knew, so were the other three.

It didn't matter. Annoying peers aside, Maureen knew she could handle living like this, coming here day after day. It wasn't hell.

_Unless I make it so. Which I won't._ Maureen leaned her forehead against the window by her seat, and smiled.

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If you liked something, tell me so! R&R.


	7. Progression

Chapter Seven up, as promised. Thank a lot to whats. the. time. mr. wolf, for reviewing again. I'm glad you're enjoying my take on Edward. I don't like him very much either, and I'm using this story to explain exactly why I don't think he's boyfriend-or friend-material.

This is more of a low-key summary chapter, but it sets up for the escalation in chapter eight. Read & Review.

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Progression

Maureen began to get into the swing of school. She found that in over half of her classes, it was easy to knit or sew something small without the teacher being any the wiser. Amusingly enough, not paying attention in certain classes had no bearing on her grade point average. She still got low A's in the subjects she was good at, and low B's in the subjects she was poor at. And she still exceeded her Uncle and Aunt's expectations.

"We're proud of you for working so hard." Aunt Joan had said, the last time she requested to see the girls' most recently graded assignments.

"It's because I get C's every now and again." Jessica had complained later. "They think a B- is the greatest thing ever, in comparison."

"My Dad thinks C's are unacceptable." Maureen commented.

"Yeah, well _my _Dad's not far off from that." Jess grumbled. "Could you bring home a C one day, though? It'll make me look better."

"You want me to throw an assignment so your parents won't think you're an underachiever?"

"I didn't say to throw an assignment, just don't hide a C if you get one!" Jessica said. "And you're more of an underachiever than me. At least I try—"

"Sometimes."

"—sometimes, yeah, but you coast _all the time_. You said so yourself."

"Do what you like, like what you do." Maureen said. "I like not being a huge failure in school, but I also like not busting my ass for a row of A's typed on a little square of paper."

Maureen knew her Aunt and Uncle were pleased with more than just Maureen's decent grades. It had become obvious that they'd viewed Maureen as a ticking clock—a troublemaker who could break a storefront window or light a trashcan on fire at any second. They were surprised to find that Maureen was on her best behavior…more or less. It wouldn't do for them to think that she was an angel—they might get suspicious as to why she'd suddenly rebelled at her old school. So Maureen kept herself distant, begging off family outings and retreating into her room whenever she could. But that was the extent of her antisocial behavior. She did her homework, finished her chores and didn't get into any fights, especially with Jess.

The heated conversation with Jess that first day of school had in fact been the closest they'd come to arguing. For the most part, they got along well. Jess got on Maureen's nerves now and again, but Maureen remembered that nothing _had_ to get to her, and she let it slide. If Maureen got on _Jess'_ nerves, Maureen knew soon enough. Then, it was easy to apologize and make amends, or to explain that she wasn't going to bend on a certain point. Their conflicts were easily resolved, and they even hung out together on boring weekend nights, bantering with each other.

"I think Frank Harris is the cutest." Jessica sighed. She was lying across her bed, while Maureen was curled up in Jessica's computer chair, crocheting the sleeve of a sweater.

"You really want to date a senior?" Maureen asked. "I know he's not eighteen yet, but at our age two years is a bigger difference."

"I'd date him if I _could_!" Jess said. "But he's not going to notice me. It's too bad he's graduating, I hate it when the cute ones leave."

"Oh, I know. Only ugly people should graduate, the pretty ones should be forced to stay for window decoration."

Jess stuck her tongue out. "You're being silly again." She propped herself up on her elbows. "Who do _you _want to date, Maureen?"

"No one."

Jess smiled slyly. "Ahhh, that's not true! C'mon, who do you think is cute?"

"Well, Mike Newton's got a sweet face, despite his excessive use of hair gel." Maureen said. "And Ben Cheney is pleasantly lean—I imagine he's got a high metabolism."

"Ah hah! I knew there were guys you wanted to date!" Jess declared.

"You asked me who was cute, Jessie." Maureen said, her crochet hook weaving through the sleeve in her hands. "Thinking a guy is handsome and wanting to date him are two different things."

"So you're too good for them?" Jess queried.

"I hate when people say that." Maureen grumbled. "Just because I don't want to go out doesn't mean I think I'm better than everyone. I just don't feel like dating. There are other things—"

"—you'd rather be doing." Jess finished. "That's all you ever do, Maureen! You should make friends and hang out with people, not stay at home spinning wool, and knitting sweaters, and, and _weaving fabric from scratch_ on that noisy machine—"

"My loom is not that loud." Maureen said. "And I told you before, I'm not going to stop weaving if I'm on a roll, even if it is three in the morning."

"I can hear it clacking through the wall." Jess complained. "If I'm awake, it's distracting."

"You're only awake at that hour if you're busy finishing an essay that's due the next day." Maureen said. "The walls aren't made of cardboard, you can barely hear it. Deal."

They collaborated in the classes they had together, and generally avoided each other at lunch. But Maureen got the impression that Jess missed her then. Maureen felt a little lonely herself sometimes. She'd chosen solitude, but she still craved the company of people on occasion. So she took to sitting with Jess' group every once in a while—usually on the days when Lauren wasn't around for one reason or another. The blonde girl seemed to view Maureen as a pest more than a threat, though. After a week and a half of Maureen expressing her disinterest in close friendships and various school activities, the constant inquisitiveness of her peers had died down. Maureen was part of the crowd now, much to her relief. People didn't even comment or stare at her clothes any more.

They stared at Rosalie and Edward and their gang, though. All the time. Like they couldn't look away. Maureen had empathized at first. _Poor bastards, getting eyeballed like they were the Barnum & Bailey freak show._ She'd thought. Until she saw that the way Edward and Rosalie got people to leave them alone was to insult them. People stared, but they didn't go near the group of albinos because said albinos were _nasty_.

Like the time it had been raining in sheets, and the lunchroom was packed. Failing to find a place to sit, Maureen had headed to their table.

"I'm sorry, but there's pretty much nowhere else to si—" Maureen's voice died in her throat as all five stood up and left the room as one. They didn't even speak to her—like she was just an object to be avoided. Maureen had tried to get another apology from Rosalie, as she seemed a little less dickish then Edward. But Rosalie clearly thought that her first apology was enough to cover all the insults ever after. When Maureen waved and tried to catch up with her in the hallway, Rosalie just walked faster. She left Maureen in the dust, without even looking at her.

"You and your lot have an _attitude_." Maureen declared to Edward the next day in English class. "And I do mean offense on that one, because clearly, so do you!"

Edward had turned toward her gracefully, mouth set in a contemptible smirk.

"I want you to leave us alone." He said. "It's not a misunderstanding anymore. You're purposely bothering us."

"How am I bothering you?" Maureen threw up her hands. "By not staying twenty feet away at all times? Am I, is the _whole school_, really that repulsive? What's wrong with your standards that you think something's wrong with me?"

"It's not my standards." Edward said. His voice was controlled, but tense. "It's just you. You're not a nice person, Maureen Stanley."

"What? _Why_?"

"You pass judgment on everyone around you."

Maureen scoffed. "I think that's called 'having an opinion'. Doesn't everyone do that? Don't you?"

"You're especially bad." Edward said. He looked uncomfortable as well as angry. "Everyone judges everyone, yes. But they also have people they trust, or love. You don't have that. Nothing and no one in this town is pure to you. You pick everything apart. The way you think about people—"

"And how would you know what I think?" Maureen snapped.

That had shut Edward up. He'd looked mortified, almost frightened. Then, shooting her a parting glare, he turned back to face the teacher.

Maureen tried to wash her hands of the whole thing. The whole student body seemed to more or less resent Edward and his posse, so having the five of them hate her didn't make Maureen a pariah. It bothered her, though, the way that Edward and Rosalie behaved. And it bothered her that it bothered her. It was like they were harder to disregard…as if the five of them were more important than everyone else. Forks had given her an enthusiastic, positive nudge when she'd determined that.

_Well, they're going to have to get used to being ignored._ Maureen thought. _I don't intend to waste a minute more of my time on them._

Maureen kept to herself, making things. What others called a hobby, Maureen considered a passion—more than that, it was a part of what she was. She could no more cease to spin or felt or weave than she could cease to eat. She ordered most of her supplies on the internet, as the shop in Port Angeles was geared specifically towards scrap bookers and quilters, as opposed to people who spun their own thread.

Sometimes Maureen was inspired to make a scarf, or a coat, and would seek out the supplies to do so. Other times she would see something online that would inspire her—like the raw cultivated silk she'd bought, and had painstakingly dyed in a pot on the stove. It had turned a marvelous violet color, a fairly dark hue that turned brighter when it caught the light. She'd managed to weave almost a yard of whole cloth from it, and had put it aside—it was meant for something special, and Maureen was patient.

Plenty of her projects became gifts. As the days got colder and the wind chill became unpleasant, the Stanley family found themselves outfitted in new hats, scarves and gloves. The rest of Maureen' projects were wrapped in tissue paper and kept safely in her bottom dresser drawer. Maureen knew they'd need to be sold, whether online or at a craft fair. Buying natural fibers in bulk cost money, and Maureen's bank account wasn't infinite. But right now, it wasn't a huge worry. Maureen worried very little these days—and a numb, pleasant peace took its place. Her life was a little too boisterous to be called 'heavenly'. But routine and apathy made everything much like a pleasant dream.

It was on the last day of September that Maureen was rudely woken.

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If you liked what you read, Read & Review!


	8. In The Girl's Bathroom

Thanks to whats. the. time. mr. wolf. again for being nice enough to leave another review. And to Louisa, I'm glad you like how Maureen can pick up on the emotions and motivations of the Twilight universe. It's one of my favorite parts to write.

A shorter chapter than some others. But we're halfway through the story now, and it's about to get dramatic! Dun dun dun! But no drama. Just dramatics.

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In the Girl's Bathroom

That Friday, Maureen had been walking towards her first class when the dark-haired albino girl had passed her, crossing in the wake of Maureen's path only a foot behind her. It hadn't seemed relevant at the time. But in retrospect, Maureen realized that the girl had walked past her with no actual destination—after passing Maureen, she had stopped, turned around and gone back the way she came.

The same thing happened again after first period, but with Rosalie. And she'd been less subtle, walking right up to Maureen in the hallway and eyeing her critically. She'd leaned in, like she was about to speak—then made a face, stepped back and walked off.

Maureen was disturbed, but not surprised to see the large dark-haired guy—Edward's brother—approach her before lunchtime. Maureen turned her head and pretended she didn't seem him, ears straining to keep track of his presence. He moved close behind her, and Maureen heard him take a deep breath. Then just as abruptly, he moved away.

_This is getting more creepy than weird._ Maureen thought.

Rosalie, Edward and the other three weren't at their table during lunch. But Edward did make an appearance, and slipped into the lunch line right behind Maureen. She didn't look at him, but felt extremely uncomfortable. He was more or less breathing down her neck.

Edward vanished after buying his lunch, and Maureen sat at the table his group usually claimed as theirs, eating her food in small, nervous bites. The final one, the blond guy, appeared at the end of lunchtime.

"I think I may have dropped a pencil here yesterday." He confessed, sounding just as constipated as he looked. He adjusted the cuffs on his black corduroy jacket. "If I could just check—"

He made a show of scanning the floor, and as he bent towards the table he reached out and hesitantly grasped Maureen's shoulder, as if to nudge her aside so he could check under the table. Maureen started—his hand felt like a brick wall, heavy and cold. But even as he bent to look under the table, the boy's expression turned from constipated to confused—and then to suspicion. His hand was still on her shoulder, and he was breathing heavily.

Maureen was too freaked out to say anything. She edged away from him, and his hand slid off her.

"Sorry, I guess it's not here." He said. He was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "I'll just—"

The blond boy retreated, still looking at her even as he walked out the cafeteria door. Maureen was still for a few seconds. Then she slammed her hand down onto the table. That was absolutely enough. Maureen didn't care how crazy or reclusive Edward and his posse was. They owed Maureen answers, right now.

Maureen slung her backpack over her shoulder, and marched out of the cafeteria. She planned to storm into the hallway and start shouting at the blonde boy—but as she reached the doorway, she changed her mind. They'd been sneaking around her all day—let her sneak around _them_. Maureen peered out into the hallway, and saw the blonde boy walking some twenty yards ahead. Maureen went after him, keeping her footfalls in sync with other people moving through the hallway. The blond boy turned left, down a hallway nobody else was walking in. Maureen was reluctant to follow him further, but he abruptly turned and walked into a bathroom—a _girl's_ bathroom.

_Well, that's something strange._ Maureen thought. Moving quietly, she slid around the corner and caught the bathroom door with her foot as it swung shut. There was a partition between the door and the cubicles, so it was unlikely anyone in the bathroom would see that the door was propped. Maureen bent her head towards the open space, and listened.

It took a second for her ears to catch the thread of the conversation.

"—read any problems, did you?" It sounded like Rosalie.

"She thinks peculiarly." Edward's voice, she could tell. "Like I said before. And it's not what she thinks, but _how_ she thinks. Her thoughts are like…like woven tapestries, or pictures done in embroidery. I can see it all perfectly well, every word and image. But it looks so strange."

"She smells awful." The blond boy's voice. "Sharp and sour."

There was a chorus of assents—she smelled bad to everyone.

"Not like spoiled milk, though." A female voice—the dark haired girl?

"No, more like lemons, or crabapples, or wild onions. A natural sour." It sounded like the mouth of the speaker was twisting into a pucker at the thought "But natural or not, I don't like it. It's off-putting."

"For which you should be exceedingly thankful." Rosalie again, definitely. "One less concern in a school full of temptation. But that's no reason to let our guard slip."

"She may not be human."

"She looks human."

"Some things do, that aren't."

"We should discuss this later, with Carlisle. There's no point speaking of it here, the walls have ears."

That was as good a cue as any. As quietly as she could, Maureen extracted her foot, and let the door close. She backed away, and slipped down the hall. Walking quickly, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead. It was beginning to throb in time with the sudden increase in her heartbeat.

Classes started again in ten minutes, but the walk to the Nurse's office took less than five. Maureen went up to the nurse's desk and explained that she felt feverish, could she please use the bathroom? Her acting was very good—or, Maureen, thought, she was so nervous she really looked sick. Either way, Mrs. Hammond bought it, and gave Maureen a cup of water before showing her the bathroom. Maureen downed the cup, then put her hands on the sink and stared at her reflection.

What was going on? Was there no peace to be had here? What were Rosalie and her gang, that they could detect hints of her true nature?

Maureen touched her fingers to the grubby bathroom mirror. In this place, as in others, she looked ordinary. If everyone here had had blue skin, her skin would have become blue as well. It was a reflexive cloaking mechanism—for lack of a better term.

And Maureen had supplemented this, trying her best to suggest no part of her true self. But while a human might be easily fooled, something _unhuman_—

She wasn't going to class, that was for sure. Not with Edward sitting three feet to her right, and by his own admission, capable of _reading minds_. Maureen left the bathroom, and asked Mrs. Hammond if she could lie down for a little. The nurse felt her forehead, and looked concerned.

"I think I should call your mother to come get you." Mrs. Hammond said.

Maureen felt a pang of discomfort in her chest. "I live with my Aunt." She said. "Her number is…"

Aunt Joan ended up not making it to the school until classes ended—Maureen spent the hours in between dozing on the nurse's cot, trying to stay calm. She lay with her hands behind her head, and looked out the window up at the sky.

Now was not the time for fear—an emotion that so easily crippled those who suffered from it. Fear was pointless here, pointless to her. If Maureen had to run away from Forks, she would do so. But that was jumping to conclusions. She needed to focus on the here and now. And now was the time for action. If Maureen wanted to deal with this situation intelligently, she needed more information.

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Read and Review! :-D


	9. Viridescent Foliage

A big thank you again to whats. the. time. mr. wolf.. And to the people who keep putting my story in their favorites section, or on a story alert. I should be giving shout-outs to you guys too, and will do so in the future.

While not featuring the Cullens directly, this chapter offers more insight into my Mary-Sue's nature, and more opportunity for me to point out the fallacies in Twilight. We'll hang out with the vampires (or one vampire, rather) again in Chapter 10.

On that subject, the next update is on MONDAY, not Saturday. I have a weekend job that keeps me away from the computer for roughly 48 hours.

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Viridescent Foliage

When Aunt Joan arrived at the school, she took both Jessica and Maureen home in the car. She eyed her niece and said that while Maureen looked a little under the weather, she doubted Maureen was really running a fever.

"You're probably just exhausted. I don't care if it's a Friday night, you're going to bed early." She announced. Maureen had nodded, not interested in arguing.

While not a competitive girl in the strictest sense of the word, Maureen did enjoy uncovering mysteries. And it was easy to turn them into overly dramatic adventures, just for the hell of it.

**Operation: Marble Assholes** was a twofold plan. Step the First: Collect Intel from the resident blabbermouth.

"The pale preppies?" Jessica shucked her jacket off as the two girls stepped into the foyer of the Stanley residence. "Oh, you must mean the Cullens!"

"The ones I know are named Edward and Rosalie." Maureen said.

"Yeah…oh, but Rosalie's last name is Hale. She and her twin brother Jasper kept their last name. But the other three are Cullens."

"Wait, they're _all _siblings?"

"Adopted siblings." Jessica corrected. "Dr. and Mrs. Cullen adopted or are fostering them all. Which makes the dating thing not actually illegal, but it's still really messed up."

"What dating thing?" Maureen frowned.

"They're all _dating each other_!" Jess said, eyes lighting up at the scandalous idea. "Rosalie's dating Emmett, the big jock, and Jasper dates Alice, the little weird one."

"I had no idea. I thought they were just really insular." Maureen made a face. "That's a little messed up."

"I know, right?" Jessica said. "The whole family moved down from Alaska last year. Dr. Cullen works at the county hospital, and we don't see so much of Mrs. Cullen—she comes to garden parties, but Mom thinks she does all her grocery shopping at the health food store in Port Angeles."

"Wow." Maureen said. What she had previously seen as only a pale, socially inept gang of jerks was now even more of a complicated mess.

"So how did you meet Edward and Rosalie?" Jess asked, clearly wanting a story.

Maureen refused to give her one, at least not one that was exciting. "I spoke to Edward in class a couple times, and Rosalie in the parking lot once. But I met all five of them the first week of school."

"Wait…you met all five?" Jess sounded excessively surprised.

"Yeah…I was sitting at the lunch table they thought of as theirs." Maureen said. "They asked me to leave, and when I wouldn't, _they _left. Does that count as meeting them?"

Jessica held up a hand. It looked like she was having difficulty processing what Maureen was saying.

"Let me get this straight." Jess said. "You've known the Cullens, known _about _the Cullens, since the second day of school. And this is the first time you've asked me about them? Asked _anyone _about them?"

"…yes?"

Jess threw up her hands. "Maureen, what is _wrong _with you?"

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry. Excuse me if I don't care enough about discovering the personal back story of every Tom, Dick and Jane I meet." Maureen scowled.

"Ok, that expression is dumb." Jessica scoffed. "And the Cullens are not just anybody. They're adopted! And really _weird_."

"Don't forget pretentious." Maureen said.

"Or gorgeous." Jess muttered.

Maureen raised an eyebrow. "The words 'it's a sore subject' are plastered all over that last sentence." She commented. "I'll assume it's got to do with Edward, since he's in our grade."

Jess' expression was one of anger mingled with lust. "He turned me down, freshman year! I liked him so much, and I was super nice to him, but he just blew me off! God, the things I wanted to do to that guy. If I had half the chance, I would've—"

While Maureen had wanted to hear the end of Jessica's highly entertaining sentence, the last words were drowned out by the sudden nudge that Maureen received. Actually, it was more like a painful shove. Forks apparently FROWNED VERY HEAVILY ON NAUGHTY NAUGHTY THINGS.

_What the hell?_ Maureen rubbed her temples. _That doesn't make any sense. I've been cursing up a storm since I got here, saying plenty of vulgar things. And I had that conversation with Jessica about boys! This place can't have a problem with se—_

NO. BAD. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE—

_Owwww. _Maureen grimaced. _This is absurd. Sex makes babies, that's a given here. How is this place advocating love without sex? _

—PURE PURE PURE PURE—

_Okay, 'pure' sex as a result of pure love. And Jessie's teenage girl lust is apparently evil. Riiight._

"Hey Maureen? Earth to Maureen?" Jessica snapped her fingers in front of Maureen's face. "You still here?"

"Yeah." Maureen brushed the babble of this place aside. Whatever Forks' attitude towards sex happened to be, it was definitely not the issue at hand.

"Thanks for the info, Jess." Maureen said, retreating to her room.

Step the Second was a little more complicated, but a lot more interesting: see what the threads told her.

It was also a good step because it gave Maureen an excuse to start exploring the woods for materials. She didn't know exactly what sort of plants grew around here, but she figured she'd find _something_. That afternoon Maureen had snuck into her uncle's study, and rifled through his things until she found where he kept his trail maps. The rest of Friday had been spent looking through those maps, and at maps on the internet. Maureen managed to draw up her own rough sketch of the surrounding countryside, enough to keep her from getting lost.

The next day, she slapped her hand down on the alarm clock by her bed at five seconds past six in the morning, after only three short rings had sounded out. She strained her ears—but as far as she could tell, none of the Stanleys had woken up. Delving into the closet, Maureen wrestled out the sack that she liked to refer to as her foraging pack. It was a large, sturdy canvas backpack, with a small zippered pouch on the front, and five spacious compartments held closed with drawstrings. The bag smelled of dried plants, and lanolin—a pleasant, if musky combination.

Maureen opened the zipper compartment, and put in her homemade map, a compass, a lighter, a Swiss army knife and a tiny first-aid kit. That was all she needed to start. With any luck, she'd come home with the rest of the bag full. Maureen dressed warmly, with silk long underwear as well as thick pants and two wool sweaters under the coat her Uncle had bought her. Maureen didn't especially like it—the plastic-y outer fabric and the polyester lining were unpleasant to her. But it was insulated with feathers, and it would keep her warm.

Putting on her new winter hiking boots (also courtesy of Uncle Thomas) Maureen donned a knitted cap, a scarf, and wool mittens with slashes to put her fingers through, if dexterity was needed. Creeping down to the kitchen, Maureen collected two granola bars and a bottle of water. She also left a note, saying she'd gone out walking. Using the key under the mat to lock the door behind her, Maureen slipped out the back door of the house, and headed off into the forest.

It really was gorgeous here. It only took Maureen ten minutes of walking before she felt totally removed from civilization. The ground was mottled green and brown, the thick pine needles green and dull against the yellow-orange leaves that filtered the cloudy light down to the forest floor.

_This is the wild, the world that people tried to escape for centuries…and now that they've escaped it, their lives are the poorer for it._ Maureen thought.

Compass in hand, Maureen walked aimlessly for a time, simply enjoying her surroundings. She felt the air warm slightly as the sun rose behind the cloudbank. She ducked around heavy branches trailing vines, and squished through muddy patches on the ground.

Maureen closed her eyes. _Sing to me._ She asked silently. _Tell me where you are, for I'm looking for you._

It didn't take much time before she felt the direction to travel in. Maureen knew the feeling well; the hum in the back of her head when she drove past a field of cotton, the itch in her fingers when she visited a sheep farm. Fibers called to her, from plant and animal, the need to transform them into thread was bound up in who she was.

_I am a peculiar beast._ Maureen thought, unable to keep from grinning. She hadn't done this in so long, and it felt marvelous.

The first plant was hemp—a small patch of it, half-hidden in the cool moist earth beside a fallen tree. Maureen pulled a stalk from the ground and smelled it—Canadian hemp, probably. That's what would grow up here. Maureen scratched her head, thinking. The hemp wouldn't serve her purpose today—like most plants, it would require preparation before she could spin it. But hemp was a good substitute for flax, and the sooner Maureen retted it the sooner she could use it. Maureen took out her knife and cut the stalks, leaving the roots behind. The hemp went into the first compartment of her bag.

The next plant was a patch of nettles. Maureen collected them with her hands covered, just in case she lost her grip and got stung. Like the hemp, they'd need to be soaked and dressed first, but Maureen took them all the same. They went into their own compartment.

Nettles and hemp were all Maureen found for a while. She started widening her gaze, looking for more unconventional fibers. Spider web she found, as well as tufts of fur caught on branches. All collected—they'd be of the most use to Maureen today. And four hours later, Maureen found a small clearing, half grown over with irises. She clapped her hands together in surprise—this was an excellent find. It took her another hour to carefully harvest most of the leaves, but it was worth it. Traditionally iris fibers were used to make rope, but they'd still work.

Jessica was eating an afternoon snack at the kitchen table when she heard noises in the backyard. She went to the back door, and opened it. Maureen had dragged one of the Stanley's old plastic trash bins out of the garage, and was using the garden hose to fill it with water.

"Where have you been? Jess called to Maureen. Her cousin looked up, grinning—she was streaked with dirt and sweat, and looked elated.

"Foraging." Maureen called. She gestured towards her empty backpack—the contents had been spread out in bundles on the lawn. "I'm going to make nettle linen—there's some hemp here, too."

"You found all that?" Jessica asked. "In the woods?"

"Yeah. I'm going to ask Uncle Thomas about setting up a heater underneath the trash bin—not enough to melt it, obviously, but if I keep the temperature of the water high the retting would be done in less than a week. That'll still give me time to improvise some dressing tools."

Jessica shook her head. She'd given up trying to understand Maureen's shoptalk long ago.

"Isn't there some rule against walking into the woods and taking stuff out like that?" She asked. "Some kind of law for protecting the environment?"

"There's no hunting season for fiber plants, Jess. And if there is, I don't care." Maureen turned off the hose. "This is what I do."

"Well, have fun playing with stinging nettles." Jess said, rolling her eyes.

"Will do."

Although Maureen was unsuccessful in persuading her uncle that it was okay to light a fire underneath the trash can, he did allow her to soak the nettles and hemp in the backyard, after she explained in detail that no, she was not making drugs. Maureen collected the rest of what she'd found—the spider web, fur and iris fibers—in a wicker basket she'd found in the basement, cleaned her clothes in the washing machine and took a much needed shower. By the time Maureen felt clean it was nearly dark, and dinnertime to boot. Maureen ate with gusto, hungry from her long hike.

When the dishes were done, Maureen returned to her room, and locked the door behind her. She set up her spinning wheel, and began spinning a bundle of undyed white wool. The decorative basket was on her lap—spider web, iris fibers and fur tufts separated into three piles. This was going to be a bizarre yarn, unconventional and strange. Maureen focused all her concentration on it. Nothing would happen unless she gave it her all.

"I'm here to ask you a question." She said aloud, as she fed bits of leaf fiber and fur into the wool she was spinning. Her foot moved up and down on the pedal, her fingers twisted the thread.

"There are strange men here, strange women, and I know not who nor what they are." She said, her voice taking on the rhythm of the clicking wheel. "They were here before me, but they move like strangers, holding all in contempt. I would know them."

The wheel spun.

"I would know who they are." Maureen said. She spaced the webbing, fur and leaf fiber carefully—she had a lot of wool to finish, and all the thread needed to be infused.

"I would know them, as the forest knows them—as Forks knows them, as this whole place knows them. As plant and animal and spider's web knows them, I would know what they are, and what they desire."

Maureen continued to spin, and continued to speak. She changed the bobbin when it was necessary, but did not break her concentration. She was no longer Maureen Stanley—she was Spinner. She was utterly herself. Her words were not a pre-recorded spell, nor any kind of magic that was easily categorized and controlled. But they were words nonetheless, and words—especially in conjunction with action—were a powerful force. And that was Maureen's power, Spinner's power. This was her element.

When all the wool and all the web, fur and leaf fiber had been spun together, Maureen took the thread to her loom. She wrapped a long piece of black cloth around her eyes, once, twice, and took up the loom's shuttle. Weaving blind was neither a quick nor easy thing to do. But it was better for the final result, that she let her hands guide her instead of her eyes. The picture would be clearer that way.

Maureen did not speak out loud, but she continued to focus her thoughts, willing the loom to twist the thread, to give her the answers she needed. She knew instinctively when the piece was done. She unhooked it from the loom by touch—it wasn't that big, barely two feet by two feet. Shuffling her feet to keep from tripping, Maureen walked across the room and laid the tapestry flat on the desk. Only then did she pull off her blindfold.

She looked down at the picture, formed from the blotches that the fur, spider web and iris fiber had left in the wool.

"H-uh." Maureen said, letting the syllable roll around her mouth before she let it out. "H-uuuh."

* * *

What's in the picture Maureen wove? We don't know! I guess it's one of those cliffhanger type things. Dun dun dun!

Tune in again on Monday for the next chapter. In the meantime, if you like something in the story, leave a review to tell me so! : )


	10. The Doctor Is In

Wow, lots of reviews! Thanks to whats. the. time. mr. wolf. again, as well as newcomers xXKazaneXx and Hidden Traces.

Hidden Traces, chapter eight seems fine to me, so I'm not sure why you can't access it. To keep you up plot-wise, the bare bones of chapter eight is that Maureen overhears the Cullen children talking about how she may not be human (she isn't) and Maureen deduces that the Cullens aren't human either, and she needs to investigate them further.

Also, big thanks to TheGizzYall, who added this to their Favorite Stories List. And again to xXKazaneXx and Hidden Traces, who put A Place Where No ONe Lives on their Story Alert.

Chapter ten...once again, the Cullens (or a Cullen, anyway) feature in this chapter. I liked leaving them out of chapters every now and again. Even though this is Twilight fanfic, it amuses me to treat the Cullens as if they are insignificant compared to Maureen, who is the unquestioned star of this story.

* * *

The Doctor Is In

Maureen walked down the hall of the county hospital, moving without hesitation even as she scanned the numbers on the doors. It was important that she appeared to know where she was going, that she looked like she had a perfectly good reason for being here. Otherwise someone might ask her what she was doing, and Maureen was hoping not to need any of the flimsy excuses she'd thought up.

She shifted the backpack slung over her shoulder, squinting as she passed under the fluorescent lights. The smell of sterilizing chemicals was thick in her nose. She hadn't wanted to ask the receptionist what the room number was—luckily, there was a physician index posted in the hospital lobby, rendering the receptionist unnecessary

Maureen stopped. Here was the right number…and there was his name on the door, large as life. Peering through the fogged glass, Maureen could only make out one figure—he seemed to be alone. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepping boldly into the room.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen?" Maureen asked.

Maureen realized it was a stupid question, even as she asked it. The man at the desk was clearly the right one. He was just as pale as his adopted children, his features equally flawless. With the navy blue necktie and spotless white lab coat, he looked like he'd fallen out of a Hallmark hospital drama.

Dr. Cullen sat frozen in his chair, eyes wide with a mild, fearless surprise. Silence stretched between them.

_Do they_ all_ do the awkward silence thing? _ Maureen thought irritably.

"I'm glad I caught you in your office, Doctor." Maureen said. She crossed the room, and stood behind the chair in front of his desk. "I didn't make an appointment, I know. But I need a consultation."

"…you're not a human being, are you?"

Now it was Maureen's turn to freeze.

Dr. Cullen smiled at her expression. "I apologize. That must have sounded very rude. You're Maureen Stanley, yes?" He said. "My children told me about you. I see my theory was correct."

Maureen found her voice. "What theory?" She asked.

"That you're something unhuman. A creature outside my ken—if you don't mind my asking, what are you exactly?"

His smile was surprisingly kind—completely free of the patronizing contempt of Edward's smirks.

Maureen shrugged. "I'm just me. There's no name for the kind of creature I am."

Dr. Cullen peered at her. "You're young." He observed. "You're very young."

"Um…yeah. I'm a sophomore." Maureen said.

"But you're actually that age." Dr Cullen said. "You look…but you have nothing of timelessness about you, nothing immortal."

"At the risk of admitting a flaw, I'm _not_ immortal." Maureen said. "Hell, if you're going by genetics most of me _is _human. Just not all of it."

She stepped around the chair and put her palms flat on the desk, leaning toward the Doctor.

"I didn't come here so you could confirm what I am, Doctor." She said. "I came here to confirm what _you_ lot are."

"You think you know what we are?" Dr. Cullen had stopped smiling, but he did not look upset.

"I haven't the slightest idea." Maureen declared angrily. "If I had, I wouldn't have come to ask you. I need you to tell me."

There was a pause. Dr. Cullen folded his hands together on the desk, and took a deep breath.

"I don't want to insult your intelligence, Miss Stanley." He said. "It's one thing to maintain the charade to delude an inquisitive human. But since we've clearly established that you yourself are not entirely human, it would be facetious to pretend that my family and I are normal people. Nevertheless—"

Maureen opened her mouth, but Dr. Cullen held up a hand.

"_Nevertheless_, secrecy from outsiders is what keeps my family safe, and allows us to live peacefully. So you will forgive me for not wanting to reveal our exact nature to you, if you have not guessed it. While you do not seem dangerous in of yourself, you're not exactly forthcoming. You won't elaborate on what you are. And my son considers you cruel and untrustworthy."

_Your 'son' is a moronic stuck-up douchebag who sees the worst in ordinary people, and judges them by their smallest sins._ Maureen bit her tongue.

"Can you read my mind too?" She asked abruptly.

Dr. Cullen seemed surprised that she knew to ask that. "No." He said.

_Good._ She thought. "Alright." She said.

Maureen sat down in the chair. Tugging her backpack off her shoulder, she opened it and pulled out the wool tapestry.

"Have you ever heard of the Nacirema?" Maureen asked, holding the tapestry in her lap.

"Sorry?"

"The Na-ci-re-ma." Maureen said. "Or rather, the paper titled Body Ritual among the Nacirema. It was written by Horace Miner, and published in 1956, in an Anthropology journal.

"It sounds familiar to me." Dr. Cullen said. "But it's been a while. Please enlighten me."

"Miner describes the Nacirema, a group of people living between Mexico and the Antilles, who engage in a variety of bizarre rituals. As the reader progresses through the paper, they can't help but think to themselves 'Why, this culture of Indians is truly bizarre and overly complicated! They are devoted to useless rituals, and become unhinged if parted from them. How silly people were back then, living without civilization!'"

Maureen smiled bitterly.

"It's only later that the reader—if he bothers to check—realizes that 'Nacirema' is 'American' spelled backwards. And that the twisted, backwards culture he was reading about was his own all along—observed from the objective perspective of an outsider."

"I do remember that paper." Dr. Cullen said, smiling. "I read it a long time ago. But I'm not sure what it has to do with the subject at hand."

Maureen lifted the tapestry, and unrolled it on the desk, facing Dr. Cullen.

"I made this last night." She said. "It was supposed to tell me what you were. But it's like the Nacirema paper. It's given me all the clues I need. But I can't identify _what_ you are, because it's giving me the answer in a way that doesn't make sense to my outsider mind. So I can't understand it. Do you see?"

Dr. Cullen stood up, and leaned over the tapestry. Maureen stood up too, watching as he examined it.

Like tea leaves scattered at the bottom of a cup, the dark patches within the wool had been unconsciously woven to form a distinct picture. Black against white, the whole thing resembled a rough, yet detailed pencil sketch.

The scene itself was piecemeal, but the background appeared to be a large field, with the sun blazing overhead. The figure in the foreground was male, and conceivably resembled Edward Cullen. His head was thrown back, and his face was turned upwards, shot through with tiny stars. His hands gripped the neck of a dead deer. Behind him huddled six more figures, each grasping or cradling a dead animal. On the left side of the tapestry, there was a large bonfire. A human figure lay within the flames. The head was separated from the body, each limb cut from the torso and split again at the elbow and knee. To the right there was a face, larger than Edward's. It was twisted in pain, eyes closed, lips screaming. The cheek of the face was marked with a ragged, festering bite wound. It bubbled and boiled, rivulets of steaming blood running down the face.

"Are you going to explain this to me?" Maureen asked. "Or do you want me to find out the hard way?"

Dr. Cullen slowly sat back down in his chair.

"I won't deny I dislike your son." Maureen said. "As he clearly dislikes me. But I am no malicious creature, and I _despise _cruelty. _Nevertheless_, I will find out what you are. I don't like these kinds of secrets, the ones you can't guess despite the secret-keepers throwing them in your face. I will find out. And if I can't do it quietly, I will do it loudly. That's not a threat, Dr. Cullen. It's just my plan of action. If you don't want me to be loud, you can help me. Just a hint will help."

Dr Cullen rested his hands on the desk again.

"You possess divination?" He asked. "The power to reveal things?"

"I have the power to…ask fiber to do things for me." Maureen said. "As lame as that sounds."

Dr. Cullen's expression was thoughtful. "You put me in mind of a brownie, or a goblin." He said. "Not the kind who cleans the house, but the kind who patches trousers, ties the shoes and mends the stockings."

He chucked quietly, humorlessly. "Servants of the Devil, my father used to say."

"The devil is relative." Maureen said.

Dr. Cullen nodded. He rolled up the tapestry, and handed it to Maureen. She slipped it into her backpack.

"Your weaving is accurate." He says. "My hint for you is to point out that in your picture, my family and I hold only animals. We refuse something else."

Dr. Cullen stood up, and motioned towards the door. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Stanley, but I would prefer if you left now. You should go home. How did you get here, anyway?"

"I used my Uncle's bike." Maureen said. "I didn't tell him where I was going, or how far."

Dr. Cullen frowned. "Please don't do that again." He said. "Someone should always know where you are going…especially if you are going to see someone like me."

He took a black leather wallet out of his pocket, and opened it. "Here's thirty dollars." He said, holding the money out. "Call a cab to take you home."

"I can get myself home." Maureen said. "But thanks."

She turned and left the office, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Maureen walked back down the corridor, chewing on her lip. _They choose the animals…to eat them, presumably. Fine, I got that easy. But they don't seem like deranged hunters, or crazy animal cultists who bite the flesh off while the poor creature is still alive._

_Bite._ Maureen trotted down the stairwell to the main floor. _They bite. They chew. The face has a bite mark. And for some reason, it's infected. It's poisonous?_

Maureen shook her head as she exited the hospital, heading for the bike rack. This was the same rut she'd gotten stuck in last night. The poison made no sense to her. _They're not snakes, they're not spiders or jellyfish…why the venom?_

Maureen rode her bike out of the parking lot, and onto the county road. Pedaling fiercely, she concentrated on putting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

It was a good three-hour bike ride back to the Stanley house. Maureen was only twenty minutes from home when she finally got it.

She jerked her uncle's bike off the side of the road, skidding into the grass. She balanced precariously on one foot, as the answer that had flitted through her head grew solid, and became an absolute certainly

Maureen's eyes bulged. She opened her mouth.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

* * *

My favorite chapter is up next. I'm so excited! Tune in tomorrow! :D

And please Read and Review, especially if you found something particularly funny or clever.


	11. This Is How We Play Nice

Thanks again to lil artist and whats. the. time. mr. wolf, for your reviews. Much love to you guys for sticking around. :D

lil artist, the Greek myth you're thinking of is the story of Arachne. Which is an interesting comparison. Maureen's not a Greek myth, but she is proud, and as for spiders...well, you'll see. )

This is my favorite chapter. It was the most fun to write, and makes me laugh.

* * *

This Is How We Play Nice

Claiming that she had to see a teacher about extra credit work, Maureen got Aunt Joan to drive her and Jess to school a little earlier than usual on Monday. Once there, Maureen ditched Jessica, and hung around the parking lot, thumbs hanging from the belt loops on her green slacks. Soon, the silver Volvo that the Cullens took to school every day drove up the road and onto the asphalt lot. Maureen observed what parking space Edward was heading towards, and quickly slipped between the cars towards the back of the vehicle.

The Volvo stopped, and the occupants prepared to disembark from the car. The left backseat door unlocked, and started to open.

Maureen dove. Dropping her backpack on the ground, she grabbed the partially opened door and yanked it out of the blond guy—Jasper's—hand. It was harder to pull it away from him than it would have been from a human, but that was no surprise. Luckily, he hadn't been holding it too tightly. Before anyone in the car could move—and Maureen suspected they could move very fast when they weren't caught unawares—Maureen jumped into the backseat of the car, shoving the three occupants over. It was like slamming into a boulder, but Jasper was scrambling to get out of her way, a look of panic on his face.

Maureen slammed the door on herself, shutting them all in the car.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" She shouted.

"What are you doing?" Edward said. "You can't be in here!"

"Why, some kind of Undead code? The Eleventh Commandment: Let not Those Who Breathe sit in your Volvo C30?"

"We breathe! Er…when we talk." Emmett said. He was sitting in the front passenger seat, and looked nervous and awkward. Rosalie and Edward, on the other hand, were furious. And Jasper looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Only the dark-haired girl was calm.

"See?" The dark-haired girl—Alice—said. "I_ told_ you she was going to confront us. I saw that much."

"You didn't say she'd climb in the car…Stanley, you are breaking and entering!" Edward said. "For the love of—Jasper, hold your breath!"

"I cannot fucking believe it." Maureen said. "It's too ridiculous to be true. _Vamp_—"

"Please don't say that word, not here." Alice said. "People outside the car might hear you. We've worked very hard—"

"You can't be what you are!" Maureen said. "You guys are pathetic! You don't look like corpses; you look like messed-up Greek statues. Sunlight, _sunlight _doesn't burn you! And you're in high school. You have eternity to do whatever you want, and you go to _high school_?"

"Excuse me." Rosalie said. "But did you just climb into our car and shut the door, _fully aware of what were are_?" The last part came out as a shrill half-whisper. "Are you _suicidal_?"

"Oh, please." Maureen said. "If I were face to face with a Bengal tiger, then I'd be scared. In comparison, you guys are about as scary as Pooh's friend Tigger."

"Get out of this car!" Edward said forcefully. "Alice, what's—"

"He's not going to bite her." Alice said. She looked amazed. "He ate three days ago, but—"

"—she smells terrible." Jasper said. Scrunched up against Maureen, he was staring at her with a mingled expression of shock and wonder. "Alice, I don't want to eat her! She smells _completely unappetizing_!"

"Gee mister, I sure am flattered." Maureen said dryly.

But Jasper wasn't listening. Twisting himself around—Maureen winced, it was like being scraped by a concrete wall—Jasper grabbed her hand between his ice-cold palms.

"Hi, I'm Jasper Hale! It's great to meet you." He said, smiling broadly.

"So who are you?" Emmett asked. He was staring at Maureen with abject confusion. "What are you? I don't get why you're special."

"Carlisle said she didn't have a name for what she is, remember?" Edward said. "She's just unhuman in some way."

"The fact that it took you and Alice so long to realize she wasn't normal is a little worrying, by the by." Rosalie said to Edward. "Especially you. Wouldn't you have seen how she thought of herself?"

"Traditional embroidery is a semi-abstract art form." Edward said. "The mental picture she has of herself is more or less a cartoon. There was no way I could tell how she realistically saw herself when her whole mind looks like the Bayeux tapestry!"

"In douchebag's defense, I don't advertise what I am any more than you guys do." Maureen said. "I'm not surprised we fooled each other for a month."

"Do you see?" Edward said. "Did you hear what she just said? Her mind is full of that, all the time! All sorts of inappropriate, rude words."

"Oh yeah, thanks for telling your father I was a bitch, by the way." Maureen said.

"I never said any such word. I merely told him what I thought of you, based on your own foul thoughts and vocabulary."

"Can we please all calm down?" Alice said, raising her hands. The gesture was less effective as she was tightly sandwiched between Jasper and Rosalie. "I think we have a few important things to discuss, before we make Maureen get out of the car."

"I'll make it quick for you guys, since Edward's got his panties in a twist." Maureen said.

Rosalie clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. Edward looked murderous.

"You want anonymity, right?" Maureen said. "So do I. No one in my family knows what I am. I'd like to keep it that way. I moved up here so I could get some peace of mind, and do my own thing. I don't want to be exposed or forced to leave any more than you guys do."

"You won't tell anyone about us?" Jasper said.

"I swear." Maureen drew an x over her chest. "And I hope you guys promise to do the same."

"There we go!" Alice said, smiling. "She's definitely not going to tell anyone about us now. I can see it."

"You can _see _it?" Maureen said.

"Alice is precognitive." Jasper said.

_She can see the future?_ Maureen thought. _Damn, that's heavy._

"I'm surprised you know what 'precognitive' means." Edward said. Maureen scowled at the offhanded insult.

"And I'm_ not_ surprised that you read minds." Maureen said. "Given your poorly veiled contempt for everyone around you. No wonder you're such an asshole."

"Hey, add one rule to this little deal. _Don't_ call him names." Rosalie snarled.

Maureen was startled. She thought Rosalie didn't like Edward much. Then again, Maureen didn't like Jessica all the time either—but she was still loyal to her.

"Sure." Maureen said. "I'm sorry for saying what I said."

"No you're not." Edward said.

"Well then I'm sorry for making you and your family feel bad, how about that?" Maureen snapped. "I'm sorry for worrying you, for making you think you'd be exposed. Am I lying _now_, Edward?"

Edward shook his head, sighing.

"Please forgive my behavior." He said. "Just because you respond to every situation with such vitriol doesn't mean it was acceptable for me to sink to your level. I was wrong to do so."

"You should have stopped at 'please forgive my behavior'." Maureen said.

Alice laughed. "I like her." She said to her siblings. "She has a better sense of humor than the werewolves."

"There are werewolves here too?" Maureen said. "In this tiny town? Good grief. That's a little dumb."

"They are dumb." Emmett said. "And paranoid."

"You all have something in common, then." Maureen said.

"Get out of my car please." Edward said.

Maureen did so, picking her backpack up off the ground. "See you in class, Edward." She said. She concentrated hard on a mental image of the two of them getting along…grudges were useless.

Edward nodded. As the Cullens began to climb out of the Volvo, Maureen hefted her backpack onto her shoulders, and headed for her first class.

"Well, I think that went well." She said to herself. She started to giggle.

She didn't stop giggling until she sat down at her desk.

* * *

If you found any of this funny or interesting, leave a review to tell me which parts! :D


	12. The Lamest Kind

Shout out to lil artist and xXKazaneXx for their reviews. I'm glad chapter 11 went over so well.

I want to see the Cullens get their comeuppance too...it's hard, since they live in a world that revolves around them as the tragic heroes. But (if this wasn't a little obvious before) I'm not really a Twilight fan. This fic was written for complicated reasons, but none of those reasons had to do with me liking the series. I think it's poorly written, the characters are one-dimensional at best, and the story exalts the most whiny, passive-aggressive traits of humankind as dramatic and beautiful. Drives me crazy.

Regardless, this story has been excellent catharsis, and I love the reviews. And we've still got at least four more chapters after this. On with the vampire critique.

* * *

The Lamest Kind

Maureen biked down the county road, leg muscles straining against the pedals. She thought wistfully of her own bike, left at her Dad's house in Sacramento. It was less equipped for cold weather, but it was also much less heavy than her Uncle's. In all honesty, she would have preferred to take a car to the hardware store. But both her Aunt and Uncle had been busy, and refused to drive her.

"Tools for your little projects are not the first thing on my list today." Uncle Thomas had said. "Either you wait until a day when I'm not busy, or you take the bike."

Maureen hadn't wanted to wait. So here she was, pedaling down the side of the road, bundled up in sweaters and a coat.

A shrill honk yanked Maureen abruptly from her thoughts. She jerked the bike further to the right, nearly flying into the car ditch. Another honk. Maureen stopped the bike, and looked behind her. A bright red convertible with the roof pulled up was slowly breaking behind her. Maureen could see a familiar blonde head behind the wheel.

"Oh, cripes." Maureen muttered.

Rosalie stuck her head out the window.

"Want a ride?" She asked.

Maureen laughed humorlessly. "Oh yeah, sure, uh-huh." She said. "That's totally convincing and _not _creepy."

The passenger door opened. "Why is it creepy?" Emmett asked, stepping out. His pasty biceps rippled under a navy blue t-shirt. "Because we're…?"

"You being vampires is the _least _creepy thing about this scenario." Maureen said. "Do you have any idea how sketchy it is to pull over on the road and offer a bicyclist a ride in your shiny car? There are _human beings_ who do that, and mean more ill that you could possibly imagine. So no, I'm not going to get in a strange car."

"But we're not strangers. You know us." Emmett said.

"Not damn well enough." Maureen said.

"We can give you a lift." Rosalie called. "You're obviously going somewhere, and we want to talk to you."

"I am going to the hardware store…where I will possibly add 'wooden stakes' to my shopping list." Maureen said.

"Stakes don't hurt us." Emmett said.

"Well fuck you, then!" Maureen yelled. "If sunlight and stakes don't work, what the fuck does?"

The two vampires stared at her, faces blank. Maureen put a hand to her forehead.

"Look, I've been biking for an hour. I'm almost there."

"We'll give you a ride the rest of the way." Rosalie said. "And a ride home. We promise not to hurt you."

"You can ride shotgun." Emmett offered. Maureen burst out laughing.

"Dear lord, preserve my stupid rear end…" She climbed off her bike. Emmett grinned, and went around to the back of the convertible.

"If I valued my existence, I would not be doing this." Maureen grumbled, offering up her bike. Emmett lifted it like it was a toy, and strapped it to the back of the car.

"Valued your existence…does that mean you _are _suicidal?" Rosalie asked as Maureen climbed into the car. The blonde girl shifted the car into drive, and they took off down the road.

"Only so far as I don't think my life is so fantastic that I'm terrified of losing it." Maureen said. "To me, 'suicidal' means actively seeking one's death. I don't go out looking to die. But I wouldn't think it so terrible if I did. Being dead is easy. Living is what's hard."

"That's true, I guess." Emmett said. He looked exceedingly cramped, stuck in the convertible's back seat. But he seemed to be taking it with good cheer.

"So…what do you want to talk to me about?" Maureen said. "I thought we were all settled. You guys didn't bother me all week."

Rosalie smirked. "Edward didn't bother you?"

"Well okay, he does that just by being himself." Maureen said. "He makes scornful faces at everyone in the class…I assume because of their _private _thoughts. But he hasn't said anything nasty to me."

"He tries to control himself." Rosalie explained. "He has very high personal standards."

"And the ones he sets for other people are equally impossible to achieve."

"_Regardless_." Rosalie said. "We know you haven't exposed us, and you don't plan on doing so. And we certainly don't intend to expose you. But we wanted to ask you about a few things."

"Like what?" Maureen said. "I already told you, there's no name for what I am."

Rosalie's eyes narrowed. "No, not that. Carlisle wants to know exactly what you thought you were doing, pulling that little stunt in the car."

"While I appreciate the question being directed at me, wouldn't Edward have found that out for you guys already?" Maureen asked.

"That's the confusing part." Rosalie said. "He says you weren't scared of us. You just threw yourself into the car because you thought it would be harder for us to walk away from you. Edward's actually got a bit of grudging respect for you now, because of it. He says you may be foolish, but you're not a coward."

_Wrong, Edward. I'm very much a coward…just not about anything here._ Maureen thought.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it." She said out loud.

"But you weren't afraid of climbing into a car full of vampires?"

"What, did I think you could have drained my blood, or broken my neck? Of course I did. But you guys want to stay hidden; that would have blown your cover. Anyway, it's not like ordinary people aren't dangerous too. Any of the kids at school could bring a gun into the cafeteria and start shooting up the place, no warning. "

_Although there's zero chance of that happening in this place._

"But you're not scared of us." Rosalie said.

"No more than I'm scared of anyone else. So not really."

"But we're dangerous!"

Maureen pinched the bridge of her nose.

"This is going to be a little hard to explain." She said. "But I've been…other places. Seen other things. Beyond the world as you know it. And there are vampires there that make you and your family look like toothless kittens."

Rosalie laughed.

"Oh, that's not hard." She said. "Most vampires_ are_ more actively scary, us Cullens being vegetarians."

"Vegetarians?"

"We only hunt animals." Emmett said. "You didn't know that?"

"No, I did. Dr. Cullen—Carlisle—tipped me off." Maureen said. "But retarded nicknames for your diet choice aside, the vampires I'm talking about aren't the kind you know. I'm talking about other vampires, different from and more frightening than even those of your kind who drink human blood."

Rosalie was driving way above the speed limit, but she turned and gave Maureen a hard look. Maureen could feel Emmett's eyes boring into the back of her head, as well.

"…_other _vampires?" Rosalie asked.

_Shit. _Maureen bit her lip.

"I don't want to get in to it." She said. "And I can safely swear on everything I hold dear that you will never, ever see one of these 'different kinds' of vampires. They're effectively myths and stories to you."

"But." Maureen continued. "They're what I base my opinions on. And compared to them, you're hardly scary, and hardly predators."

"Oh come on!" Emmett said. "I don't care how badass these made-up vampires of yours are, we are not _hardly predators_! Have you seen my muscles? Do you know how many bears I can beat up in a week?"

_Bears?_

"Apparently not enough to make you think about animal rights." Maureen said. "If you're so nice that you won't drink human blood, why can't you kill your food quickly and humanely?"

"It's no fun that way." Emmett said.

_Great. He's a good-natured, hypocritical animal abuser._ Maureen thought.

"Bear-baiting aside." Rosalie said, shooting Emmett a quick glare. "We are dangerous, Maureen. Carlisle, _all of us_, want you to understand that. You're not entirely human. But your body is more or less like a human's, yes?"

Maureen nodded.

"Then it's fragile as glass to us. We can outrun you in seconds, we can outmatch you in a fight without breaking a sweat. And worse than that, we're _social_ predators."

Rosalie tossed her head, shaking her gorgeous golden hair across the collar of her crisp white jacket. "I was beautiful before I became a vampire. But after the change, we all become more attractive. We draw people in, with the perfect way we act and move."

"You look like marble statues with chapped lips, suffering from sleep deprivation." Maureen said. "And while I concede that makes people curious about you—"

"My lips are _cherry red_, not chapped." Rosalie interrupted, looking annoyed. "And you have to take this seriously, Maureen. Without even trying, we _invite_ you in."

"No more than a human charismatic douche would." Maureen said.

"You got in our car just now." Emmett said. "Us being vampires, that was the wrong thing to do. But we asked you to and you did. Doesn't that prove how weak your are?"

Maureen's mouth dropped open. She was outraged.

"Are you kidding?" She exclaimed. "You _badgered_ me to get into your car! And now you take the moral high ground and say that I shouldn't have given in to you? That's beyond you trying to convince me of your supernatural charisma…that is an _attitude_ problem. Either you wanted me in the car, or you didn't. You can't pull head case shit like that and get away with it. That's like a grown man seducing a fifteen-year old girl, then saying it was _her_ fault for not being strong enough to resist him. I do_ not_ buy that blaming the victim type bullshit. Don't even try it on me."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Maureen could see the hardware store looming up ahead, two miles down the flat road.

"We're not sex offenders." Emmett said.

"It was an example." Maureen said. "Not a literal comparison."

She sighed.

"Look, I understand what you're saying. I get that you're more dangerous than a human being, for a variety of reasons. But I really can't see you as that much of a threat. You're barely vampires to me. I couldn't _guess_ that you were vampires, even when I had all this evidence. Not because I thought vampires didn't exist, but because you were such _bad examples _of vampirism compared to what I've seen."

"Okay…how are we bad examples?" Emmett asked.

"_Lots _of reasons. But it was the sunlight that got me, really." Maureen said. "I've only been to two other places where vampires could go out during the daytime, and those creatures were _almost _as ridiculous as you…barely identifiable as vampires, really. More like some gothbunny's wet dream. The original Dracula aside, no vampire that isn't remotely contrived can go out in the daytime without some sort of giant magical protection."

"Well, we can." Emmett said.

"Yes, and if I haven't already expressed myself on the matter, I consider you contrived." Maureen said. "Whatever twist of fate made vampires here, it did a piss poor job."

"What makes you think I want to be what I am?" Rosalie snapped, a low growl in her throat. "I don't. I don't want to be what I am, I don't want to be _how_ I am."

"Well I don't think you can change it. So live with it." Maureen said. "I do."

"We didn't ask to be monsters, you know!" Rosalie said, as if she hadn't heard Maureen at all. "None of us did."

"But that's just it, you're _not_ monsters. Even including those who drink human blood, none of your kind are impressive monsters at all. Just think about it. Creatures of the night…the image is ruined when you can just waltz down Main Street on some sunny afternoon."

"We encouraged the myth of being burned in the daytime," Rosalie said, voice tense. "So that people would think we were normal when we _didn't_. And I can _not _waltz down a busy street in the sunlight!"

"Yes you ca—wait." Maureen frowned. "The tapestry I made…something was wrong with Edward's face, when it was turned to the sun."

She bit her lip, thinking.

"So….so you can go out in the daytime, without getting hurt. But direct sunlight does something to you."

"Exactly." Rosalie said.

"Something not debilitating, which means it's _not a weakness_!" Maureen slapped her hand on her leg. "Which means you're not proper vampires."

"It is a weakness!" Emmett protested. "It reveals us as inhuman."

"And how does it do that?"

"We sparkle."

Maureen blinked. The convertible pulled into the hardware store parking lot, and Rosalie swerved gracefully into an empty spot.

_Sparkle. In the sunlight. That's what those stars were. They sparkle. Like glass, or reflective stones catching the light._

"You people are completely retarded!" Maureen said.

That, plus their arrival, ended the conversation abruptly. Maureen got the impression that while both Emmett and Rosalie were keeping their cool very well, they were angry and confused over the insults she'd thrown at them.

_They don't know how to react._ Maureen thought. _They're used to being called 'freaks' or 'jerks'. And they're used to being thought of as monsters. But now someone's telling them that they're dumb because the kind of monster they are is a_ lame _monster._

"I give up." Emmett said, about ten minutes after they entered the store. "You've got blunt strips of metal, wood and nails. What are you making?"

"Tools. Well, the end result is going to be linen thread." Maureen said. "But there's a whole procedure that you have to do just to get the plants to the point where you can spin them. Basically I have to scrape and beat and break the hell out of the plant fibers to get all the straw off. To do that I need dull knife-like pieces of metal, and combs made of steel pins or nails. In Sacramento I knew a woman who had all these tools for dressing flax, she would let me borrow them. Now I'm going to try and make rudimentary tools of my own."

"Whoa." Emmett said. "That sounds hardcore. And kind of fun, too!"

Rosalie smiled at Emmett's beaming face, her gold eyes loving and indulgent.

_Huh. She really likes him._ Maureen thought. _And he really likes her._

Forks agreed. The two were meant for each other…almost obsessively so.

_Don't you go spoiling my admiration for their relationship by telling me the truth._ Maureen thought. She had a sneaking suspicion that her personal definition of love was very different from Forks' definition. And that the latter was not something Maureen would like.

Emmett carried the supplies back to the car, and Rosalie drove the three of them back towards Forks.

"There was something else I wanted to ask you." Rosalie said. "Emmett, would you hand her the book?"

Emmett reached into a thin compartment on the back of Maureen's chair, and pulled out a thin three-ring binder.

What's this?" Maureen said, taking it.

"Alice's drawings." Rosalie said. "She designs clothes for me. It's a hobby of ours—I pose, and she invents."

Maureen flipped the book open. There were dozens of fashion sketches inside, computer prints in high resolution color. All featured Rosalie as the model.

"I'm not actually that great at _designing_ clothes." Maureen said.

"They're already designed, Maureen." Rosalie said. "I just want you to try and build a few."

"Me?" Maureen asked.

"Of course we'll pay you, for the material and for your time." Rosalie said. "Normally we send these drawings to various custom designers and tailors in Seattle. But Alice thought it would be better to have _you_ make some of them. She said she saw you doing them well."

_Good grief._ Maureen thought. _Rich, crazy vampire women. One's vain, and one's insane._

The outfits were beautiful, though.

"I can definitely do a few of them." Maureen said. She shut the book. "Is it okay if I keep this?"

"Absolutely." Rosalie grinned. "My measurements are written in the book. You can find me at school if you have any questions. Or I'll find you if I have anything to add. I assume you'll be in town."

"Yeah." Maureen said. "Except for shopping trips and school, the only place I go is foraging in the woods."

"Oh, we could find you in the woods if we wanted to." Emmett said. "That's easy."

_Oh great, Emmett._ Maureen thought. _Thanks. That's not creepy at all._

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet. Rosalie dropped Maureen off outside the Stanley house. Emmett unhooked the bike, and made sure that Maureen could carry the bag of wood and metal by herself. Then the two vampires drove away in the red convertible.

Maureen put the bike and the bag from the hardware store inside the garage, then walked into the house. Jessica was coming down the stairs, in a hurry.

"Was that Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale?" She asked.

_Crap._ "Yes."

"Oh my God! Spill!"

"No."

"Spill!"

"Twenty dollars."

"Maureen you have like, four thousand dollars in a bank account!"

Maureen rolled her eyes. "They saw me biking home, and offered to give me a lift. They were just being good Samaritans."

"Oh come on, there's got to be more than that! What did you guys talk about? What's the inside of that car like? Tell me!"

"Fifty dollars."

"Aaarrghh!"

Maureen climbed the stairs as Jessica groaned, distracted by her thoughts.

_They can find me in the woods. Great. Figures. Why do these people think they're benevolent monsters, when really they're sketchy, lame creeps?_

Maureen went into her room, shutting the door. She looked at the blue binder in her hands.

_Except I am getting friendly with them, of my own free will. But...but if they can find me in the fucking woods, and they know where I live…ugh. I don't want my paranoia to be justified._

* * *

Read & Review! :D


	13. BONUS CHAPTER: Parting Ways

Thanks to lil artist and xXKazaneXx for their reviews. If I'm getting people to review when they usually only do it once or twice, I must be doing something right. :D As for the werewolves, there is some ribbing, but they're not in this story much. There aren't really a lot of therm around, before James and his people roll into town.

Also, my computer is refusing to access the internet. I'm posting this from a friend's laptop. So updates might get delayed without warning. Just so you know.

But now, something special for you all! After looking over your reviwews, and re-reading the whole story to myself, it occurred to me that I might be being a bit too vague in regards to what Maureen is. So here's some big fat insight into her nature, in the form of a bonus chapter. It's a little excerpt from her childhood. Hope you enjoy it!

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Bonus Chapter: Parting Ways

**November 4****th****, 1997**

A leaf hit Maureen on the cheek, then tumbled to the ground. She lifted a hand to absentmindedly scratch the spot, eyes still counting stitches in her lap. The suburbs of Southwest Sacramento could hardly be called 'cold' even in autumn. But they did get a bit blustery, and the tree in Maureen's front yard seemed to have decided that if its leaves weren't going to turn colors and fall, the wind could just pull the green ones right off.

Maureen was perched on the stoop outside her front door. Her hair, almost long enough to reach the middle of her back, was caught up in a ponytail. Skinny legs stuck out from a pair of lavender shorts, and her white t-shirt had the phrase 'MacKenzie Summer Camp' emblazoned across the front in cheerful blue letters. It was the sort of outfit that any teenager would vehemently deny ever having worn. But like most young children, Maureen was oblivious to her clothes.

_Unlike _most young children, however, Maureen's eyes were sharp, and utterly focused. Her attention never left the bundle of yarn in her lap, even as she shifted her butt on the stone stoop, or raised a hand to brush a leaf from her hair.

The screen door behind her creaked open, then clattered shut. "Still at it, my little spider?"

Maureen didn't turn her head. "There's not enough room for eight double stitches in one chain, Mom." She said, exasperated. "I don't know how to fit them."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Later, though. Look at me."

If Maureen's father wanted something when she was busy, he often had to repeat her name several times to get her attention. But Maureen's mother could always pull her out, just like that. Her voice had that kind of tone that strongly suggested You Pay Attention.

Maureen put the crochet hook down, and looked over her shoulder. Her mother was standing behind her on the stoop, one hand resting comfortably on her side. She was not the sort of woman people called 'pretty' or even 'decent-looking'. She was large—fat all around the torso, with a round, chubby-cheeked face to match. And her arms and legs were skinny, almost disproportionate to the rest of her. But all that ceased to matter when one looked into her eyes. Round and clear, her dark eyes were magnetizing. Maureen found she could stare at them for ages and ages. They were the sort of eyes everybody fell into.

"Are we going somewhere?" Maureen asked. "Some place?"

Maureen's mother smiled. "After the last trip? Honey, didn't three nosebleeds in two hours put you off traveling even a little bit?"

"But it was so much fun!" Maureen's eyes widened at the memory. "I liked the monsters best, the Orfs."

"Orcs."

"Orcs, yeah. The ones who were dressed like soldiers. But the whole place was beautiful, land, sea and sky. Even the scary woods, with the spider packs."

"Lazy lobs and crazy cobs." Maureen's mother said. Her magnetic eyes had taken on a glittering, predatory tint. "Little more than beasts with speech, those attercops. But that's best, really. Being uncivilized. They understand what it means to kill for food."

"It was great, Mom. And when it spoke it was like a song, or poetry in a foreign language."

"But going there wasn't healthy for you." Maureen mother stepped forward, and motioned for her daughter to make room for her on the stoop. Maureen complied, and her mother settled her girth onto the step. "You're too young for big trips like that, even with me taking us."

"I'm almost ten." Maureen declared. "I'm growing more every day. And feel this!"

Maureen held up the wool scarf she'd been crocheting. Her mother touched the wool, then squeezed it.

"It feels cool." She said.

Maureen beamed. "I asked it to give cold, instead of warmth." She said. "And it's working!"

"I'm glad." Maureen's mother said, voice soft. She took her hand from the scarf, and cupped Maureen's cheek.

"I need you to be levelheaded, Maureen." She said.

"Okay."

Maureen's mother made a pained face. "It's not that easy, little spider. It's not the sort of thing I can just order you to do. I can't_ ask_ you to be mature, and have you suddenly be mature. Maturity requires time, requires effort. It's no idle boast when I say you're ahead of the curve…but this is big."

Maureen's face sobered. She bit her lip.

"Big how?" She asked.

Maureen's mother sighed. "I….let me start this way. You know how parents tell children that problems between the parents aren't their fault?"

Maureen nodded.

"Well, that's only partially true. Sometimes the presence of a kid can complicate matters. But the main problem **is** between the parents. You understand that, right?"

Maureen scowled.

"…it's not my fault you and Dad argue all the time." She said bluntly. Her voice, normally high and childish, had abruptly dropped an octave. "I hate it when you fight. I'd do anything to stop it. I'm not taking **any **blame for it, even if you say a little of it _is_ because of me."

Maureen's mother smiled widely. Her white teeth shone in the sunlight.

"No, the fighting is not your fault." She said triumphantly. "And your refusal to accept blame for it makes me more proud of you than you will ever know. You're going to be fine, my little spider."

"I'm not a spider." Maureen said.

"No." Maureen's mother cocked her head to the side. "You're something else. That's been obvious for awhile, now. You need to find your own name."

"Help me pick one."

"I would love to. But I won't be around."

Maureen's face didn't change expression. She wasn't sure why. But she did feel her heart slam against her ribcage once, twice.

"Where are you going?" She asked. Her voice was quiet, but edged with sudden hysteria.

"Away. Anywhere." Her mother's tone was flat. "I can't stay here, in this dullard's reality. This place is full of pain and empty shadows, of stories that cannot come true. Even here, on this beautiful street. It's like a prison, Maureen. It will feel that way to you too, one day—or it might simply feel like hell."

Maureen took a deep breath. This, she understood. This place she'd been born in, grown up in…it was a place where people wrote fantastic tales, produced marvelous stories. But none of those wonderful things ever existed here. They were always imaginary. And as she grew, her frustration and sorrow at this place had been growing to.

"Let me come with you." Maureen said.

"It's too far and hard to travel." Maureen's mother said. "Even if you were older, you might not make it."

Maureen shut her eyes. "Because I'm less than you." She said. "Because Dad's not like us."

"It wasn't fair of me to make you." Maureen's mother said. "I should have…you should had had a different father. But I did love your Dad…I do love him still. Just not enough."

"Being mostly human." Maureen said. "That's the part that is my fault. I'm not to blame really. But still, there's nothing I can do about it."

Maureen's mother smiled sadly.

"You're so clever." She said. "You can see through to things. You can even understand that our nature—and the nature of humans beings—is one of self-preservation. We're all selfish, in the end. And it's okay to be selfish. I'm doing what I have to do. And so will you, when you need to."

Maureen's mother grimaced. "It was unfair of me, to make you your father's daughter. Then again, if someone else had been your father, you wouldn't be you. So I suppose it's a moot point."

She stood up from the stoop. Maureen did as well, the scarf and hook tumbling from her lap.

"You've dropped your work."

"I don't care." Maureen said hopelessly.

"You should care. It's the deepest part of you." Maureen's mother bent down, and scooped up the scarf, yarn and crochet hook. She handed them to her daughter.

"I'm not leaving this instant." Maureen's mother said. "It will seem sudden to your father. But you deserved to know, and have time to prepare yourself. Everything will be okay."

Maureen nodded. Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the two walked into the house.

* * *

Internet willing, the story resumes tomorrow.

Read and Review!


	14. Fun In The Woods

Thanks to Hidden Traces for the three reviews! If there were any other reviews or story alerts that happened, my lack of full access to the internet may have made it difficult for me to see them.

The next chapter after this will be up on Monday.

* * *

Fun in the Woods

* * *

As the days grew noticeably colder, Maureen found that time also passed quicker—the hours ceased to drag, especially during school. Except for the loss of daylight hours, it was a pleasant time. The air smelled of burnt leaves, and all the houses in the neighborhood had pumpkins on their front stoops.

"I can't decide what to be for Halloween." Jessica complained one morning. "It can't be something dorky, or predictable. Tyler Crowley is throwing a big party, and I have _got _to show up looking cute. Me and Beth were going to go to the Party Shop in Port Angeles—"

"If you buy one of those $40 slut costumes made from cheap polyester, I will cheerfully murder you." Maureen said to Jess across the breakfast table. "Tell me what you want to be, and I'll make you a costume for free."

"Holy shit. For real?"

"For real, Jess."

Jessica beamed. "Awesome! I knew you were good for something."

Maureen opened her mouth, then shut it again. _I don't know if she's kidding or not, but I'm not dignifying that with a response. _

Maureen ended up taking costume commissions for half a dozen people, Jessica included. She made the other five teens pay, but not much. The costumes were relatively simple…things like an angel, a sexy kitty cat, and an escaped convict.

"Are you and your family going to dress up during school hours?" Maureen asked Edward in class.

Edward gave Maureen his patronizing smirk.

"This year Halloween falls on a weekend, so we don't have to." He said. "But we usually do dress up, to blend in. Alice wears a pair of cat ears, and Emmett and Jasper bring out tuxedos that date from fifty years ago. But nothing more elaborate then that. We try not to—"

"Attract attention, yeah." Maureen nodded.

_You could dress up as vampires, though. _She thought gleefully, unable to stop herself. _And it would actually be a change for you, given that you guys spend the other 364 days of the year dressing up as preppy douchebags._

Edward glared at Maureen. She ignored it, refusing to care about him taking offense. Most people couldn't control what they were thinking, including herself. And more to the point, no one should _have_ to control his or her thoughts. It wasn't anyone's fault that Edward could see what was always believed to be private.

"Halloween costumes aside." Maureen said. "You can tell Rosalie that I've got one of her outfits done, and the second is already cut out."

"I'll be sure to give her the message."

Although the lack of daylight and Halloween commissions took up a lot of Maureen's time, she still managed to go foraging in the woods every once in a while. The plant dressing tools she'd cobbled together had proven effective, and she'd already spun a quantity of hemp and nettle into linen. It wasn't as fine as flax-spun thread, but it had its uses. And it was all hers, made from scratch.

One Saturday, Maureen woke up to the glare of sunlight blazing through her window. She grinned—it was so very rarely sunny here, this was _definitely_ a day to be outside.

Maureen dressed warmly and headed for the forest, foraging pack securely strapped to her shoulders. The trees still had enough leaves that the forest floor was shaded, but the indirect sunlight made the woods _look _warmer.

Maureen kept a weather eye out for plants, not expecting much. This would likely be more of a walking adventure than a foraging one—between the colder weather and Maureen's previous searches, she'd cleared out almost every fiber plant in several square miles of forest. Still, one never knew what one might find.

Case in point: when Jasper Hale suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Yeargh!" Maureen leapt backwards, nearly slamming her back against a tree.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" Jasper said. He was wearing a gray button up shirt, and a pair of black trousers. He looked concerned, but also amused.

"Gee Sherlock, you figure that out all by yourself?" Maureen snapped.

She was about to continue with another acerbic remark, when she felt a wave of good-natured humor wash over her. The witty comeback seemed pointless—why be mean when things felt so pleasant?

"Yeah, you scared me. Good joke, though. " Maureen said, grinning.

"Jasper, don't do that." Rosalie said, stepping out from behind a tree. "Not if you don't want to do it all the time. I know Maureen won't take kindly to it."

"Kindly to what?" Maureen asked. She still felt amused and happy, but it was beginning to fade a little.

"Jasper can feel and manipulate people's emotions." Rosalie said.

Maureen's good humor vanished abruptly. It felt as if someone had removed a clenching hand from her throat, and fresh air was sweeping into her lungs. Jasper looked guilty.

"You're an empath?" Maureen asked.

"I just told you he was." Rosalie said, crossing her arms across her chest. She was wearing a dark red turtleneck sweater, her wind-tousled hair pulled back with a clip.

"It was a rhetorical question." Maureen said.

_That good feeling was almost like a perspective._ Maureen thought to herself. _If he pushed hard enough, I imagine he could distort reality…actually change my point of view. That's the most subtle, powerful thing I've seen in this whole place._

Maureen looked Jasper in the eye. "So you manipulate emotions. Subtle…but ballsy."

Jasper looked serious, but his face twitched like he was trying not to laugh. "That's one way of putting it."

Maureen raised her hands. "And hey, between you, Alice and Edward the lot of you are pretty much set, aren't you? You three are like a gestalt organism designed to predict and fuck with people. Or does anyone else in your family have messed up overly-powerful abilities too?"

"We all carry gifts from our human lives, amplified." Rosalie said. "Emmett, for example, is incredibly strong."

"Yeah, I got that from when he mentioned _bear wrestling_ for kicks." Maureen said. "Because you torture your food, but it's just an animal, so hey, it's humane! You guys may preach morality, but you still take a _lot_ of liberties when it comes to the world around you."

"I'm sorry I replaced your anger with good humor." Jasper said. Maureen eyed him…unlike Edward, he sounded genuinely contrite. "I just didn't want you to hate me."

"You think I'd hate you for something as dumb as you accidentally scaring me?" Maureen said.

Jasper shrugged. "I'm not sure what to think. I haven't had enough contact with you. Before I realized your blood smelled sour, I avoided you like I avoid most humans. But Edward says your thoughts are frequently negative, or upset. And from what I can tell through sensing your feelings, he's right."

Maureen felt a chill run through her. She'd dismissed the Cullens as non-threatening, because they used their powers so foolishly—like for criticizing the thoughts of teenagers. But first and foremost, what telepathy, empathy and precognition all dealt with was _perception_—with seeing things. She should remember that.

"I may have a cynical, bitter mindset." Maureen said. "But I don't hate people for little things, especially when they apologize."

She headed down a slope, motioning to the two vampires. "Come on, walk with me. I wouldn't mind a little company, and you can help me look for stinging nettles."

Jasper sniffed, loudly. "The nearest stinging nettle plant is about a mile east of here."

"Well then I guess we'll go _that _way." Maureen said, tugging lightly on Jasper's sleeve. Rosalie smirked, as the three of them began walking.

"So, is there any particular reason why you two sought me out here?" Maureen asked.

"Oh, we were in the area, and decided to drop in." Jasper said.

Maureen gave him a look. "That sounds vague and evasive." She said.

"We were hunting deer, about fifty miles north of here." Rosalie said bluntly. "We caught your scent, and Jasper wanted to come and say hello."

Maureen grinned. "Better. Hello, Jasper, and how are you?"

"I'm as well as I ever am." Jasper said. "And a bit more cheerful, too, thanks to you."

"Did I say something meaningful?" Maureen asked.

"It's who you are that's meaningful." Jasper said. "I don't have the best control over my desire for human blood. It's very…encouraging for me that I don't want to eat you."

"Once again, you sure know how to sweet-talk someone." Maureen rolled her eyes. "Telling me I have bad B.O. is hardly endearing."

"It's not sweat so much as just your natural scent." Jasper said. "It makes me feel better, that I'm not hungry at all around a human."

"I thought we'd established that I wasn't human." Maureen said.

"You're human enough." Jasper explained. "Your blood smells human, just sour. Anyway, it's not like other supernatural creatures are as friendly as you."

She laughed. "I'd make a crack about how I'm not a good example of 'friendly', but given that I probably_ am_ lots friendlier than other 'magical' beings, I'll forego the comment."

Maureen glanced sidelong as Jasper. "Wait…is that why you always look constipated? Because you're resisting the temptation of human blood?"

Jasper had appeared fairly relaxed; now he tensed up again. "There's that." He said. "Also, I'm…" He trailed off.

"Hey, if it's a touchy subject we don't have to get in to it." Maureen said. "I don't share a lot of personal stuff with people."

"I'm covered with vampire bites."

_Or we could dive right into the deep end._ Maureen thought.

Jasper's expression was a mix of discomfort and catharsis. "Many years ago, I was responsible for training young vampires. I was bitten numerous times. They still hurt."

"Wait, don't you have amazing healing powers?" Maureen asked. "Like if you got cut, it would heal, right?"

"It's almost impossible to cut us." Rosalie said. "Slices and blows just glance off."

_Yeesh. They're all lame-ass Supermen._ Maureen grimaced.

"So vampire bites are different." Maureen said. "They keep hurting even when you're dead and feel like stone?"

Jasper nodded. "It's the venom."

Maureen slapped her forehead. "Ah, yes, the venom." She said. "That infinitely retarded—look, I understand the idea of vampirism as an _infection_, being transmitted into the bloodstream through the fangs. That's not weird. But you guys make it sound like some hideous acidic poison that drips copiously from the fangs, mingling with the saliva and bubbling in a constant chemical reaction of burning death."

Maureen nearly burst out laughing as Forks all but gave her a standing ovation for her description. Apparently this place_ liked_ the idea of poisonous saliva.

So did the vampires. "That's a valid description." Rosalie said.

"And venom in the bloodstream makes a human into a vampire." Maureen said, shaking her head. "I dislike that. There's no blood exchange, it's just bite and turn. To avoid an epidemic of vampirism you either have to kill your victims, or use a knife and a cup to get the blood from them to you."

Jasper inhaled deeply. "See, that's why I wanted to meet you properly." He said. "Because you can talk about things like that, but just a whiff of you kills my appetite. You should sit at our table at lunch."

Maureen did laugh out loud, then. "Hah! You lot sure have come a long way from 'stay the hell away'. Well Jasper, in all honesty I've gotten used to sitting by myself most of the time. But if you're ever having a bad day, I'd be glad to help out."

Jasper smiled. "Yes, and if there's anything I can do for you—"

"You could do me a small favor, and go stand over there." Maureen pointed. About twenty yards away there was a break in the trees, and a large patch of sunlight was beaming through.

"Rosalie said you guys sparkle in sunlight. I want to see if it looks as dumb as it sounds."

Rosalie looked angry. "It's a curse, Maureen, don't mock—"

"Sure, we'll both go stand there." Jasper said. He grabbed Rosalie's hand, and pulled her into the sunlight faster that Maureen's eyes could see.

The yellow light struck their faces and hands, scattering into a million glittering points of light. Even standing still, their skin was in motion, sparkling like diamonds.

Maureen was stupefied for a moment. Then she was on her knees, laughing uncontrollably.

"Ahhh-hah-hahhh! Yaaaaah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hahhh!"

Jasper still smiled, obviously amused. Rosalie looked livid.

Maureen wiped tears of laughter out of the corner of hers eyes.

"Hah-hahhh...I'm sorry, you guys. Bu-but…it's even worse than I imagined! Your skin does _that_? Hah! You both look like you rolled across the set of the movie Legend!"

"The 1980's film? " Jasper said. "I saw that. It had a lot of creativity, but very clichéd production values."

"Way to take the fun out of my wisecrack, Jasper." Maureen climbed to her feet. "Come on, let's keep going."

The three of them continued through the woods. While Maureen could sense the direction of a plant she wanted and travel aimlessly until she found it, both Rosalie and Jasper could detect its exact location by scent, and find it quickly.

"It's effective tracking, sure." Maureen said, cutting several nettles away from their roots. "But it sort of takes the fun out of it. I think I'm going to head back home. There won't be much to look for in the woods until spring."

Jasper and Rosalie walked back towards civilization with Maureen, conversing about this and that. Maureen threw in a sarcastic comment every now and again, to which Rosalie would frequently respond with annoyance. Jasper took offense only a few times. Mostly he just smiled and laughed. He was a sociable person—Maureen wondered if he wasn't lonely, only being close to six people on a regular basis.

"There's another favor I wanted to ask, actually." Maureen said. They were almost at the tree line.

"What is it?" Jasper asked.

"I want to meet the werewolves."

Both vampires were lost for words.

"…_why_?" Jasper finally spat out.

"It's not curiosity." Maureen said. "That's not the main reason, anyway. It's that I don't like unnecessary secrets, and them not knowing about me is unnecessary. You guys know them, and they know you, right? I think I should meet them too."

"They only know us because they caught us feeding on Quileute territory decades ago." Rosalie said. "And we have a treaty where we don't go on their land, and they don't tell everyone what we are."

"Quileute…they're Native Americans?" Maureen bit her lip. "Huh. That's not totally retarded. More natural and community-based than the average British-countryside-berserker werewolf, anyway."

"You don't want to meet them." Jasper insisted. "They're unpleasant at best, hostile at worst. And there's only one actual werewolf alive, currently. Maybe two. And both are young. Most of the Quileutes think it's just an old story about wolves. Only the tribal elders know the truth."

"Then I should probably meet with one of those guys." Maureen said. "It's only polite. I mean, I'm a not-quite-human creature, and I want to live next door. I should introduce myself, like a good neighbor."

"We can't go onto the reservation." Jasper said.

Maureen shrugged. "I don't need a babysitter. Just give me a name, and I'll go pay them a visit. I plan to be nice about it, so I don't think they'll get mad. And if they tell me not to come back, well it's their land, and that's their right. But I know about them being werewolves. They have a right to know about me."

Rosalie and Jasper looked at each other. Rosalie sighed.

"You'll want to look for a man named Harold Clearwater." Rosalie said. "Failing that, any older person by the name of Black would work."

"Thanks." Maureen said. "I appreciate it."

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If you read something funny or that you liked, read and review!


	15. Neighborhood Wolf Watch

**Hidden Traces** - thanks for reviewing again, after three times in a row. : ) I'm glad you like the way I give Forks an opinion. I figure it has opinions about 'the way things ought to be' just like the world we live in has gravity and physics. And Maureen is totally the mojo-deflater. :D

**glowing bookworm** - Glad my story could make it onto your alert list, and thanks so much for the 'glowing' review. Feel free to comment on every chapter, although it's hardly necessary. Your compliments were very nice.

**whats. the. time. mr. wolf **- I laughed too when I heard about the sparkling. Thanks for being one of my long-time reviewers!

**xXKazaneXx** - A few swipes is enough for now, I think. The werewolves aren't too stupid until Stephanie Meyer elaborates on the imprinting and the hive mind. Your reviews are always so delightfully thoughtful and articulate. Glad my story inspires you to respond. :D

**lil artist** - No, no one has to worry about werewolves imprinting on Maureen. As far as I'm concerned, imprinting is a plot device used to create angsty connection where there was none. I have this crazy theory that romance...especially the sudden kind that involves no buildup whatsoever...is neither healthy nor interesting. This may or may not be reflected in my story.

Also, I'm gonna give you all a little more insight into Maureen's nature in this chapter. And the rest of it in the next chapter. And quick note: I researched the teen driving laws in Washington state, and this is what the internet gave me. I have no idea how valid the information is..

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Neighborhood Wolf Watch

"You know this is illegal, right?" Mike Newton said.

"Huh?" Maureen turned her head. She'd been staring at the trees along the side of the road, watching them blur into a twisted brown mass as Mike's car picked up speed.

"It's illegal, driving like this." Mike said, smiling mischievously.

Maureen frowned.

"First, whatever it is, you're clearly not serious about it." Maureen said. "Second, how is any of this illegal? You got your license a month ago."

"I got my _intermediate _license." Mike corrected. "Regular license is when I turn eighteen. Until then I can't drive in a car with anyone under twenty, unless they're my immediate family. Washington State law."

"Huh. I didn't know that." Maureen said. "So you actually read the rule book?"

Mike had the decency to look slightly sheepish around his grin. "No, my parents told me. I'm not supposed to be driving anyone else unless they say so."

Maureen raised her eyebrows. "So if a cop pulls us over, we're automatically screwed. And you didn't mention this when I asked if you could give me a lift?"

Mike shot her an apologetic look before quickly returning his eyes to the road. "I wasn't really thinking about it at the time. Do you want to turn back?"

"No." Maureen said. "I'm not getting to the Reservation by bike, that's for damn sure."

"I don't remember any offer of extra-credit in History." Mike said.

"I kind of begged for it. I bombed the last test." Maureen shot Mike an embarrassed look, hoping she looked more like a rueful student than a bald-faced liar. "I need a living source, since it's local history. I only have a few questions to ask, it shouldn't take very long."

"Sure." Mike nodded. "Don't worry, I wasn't gonna do much this afternoon except homework. And you said you'd make it up to me."

"That I did." Maureen settled back in the front passenger seat. "I promise."

When they turned onto the main reservation road, the forest seemed to grow twice as thick—something Maureen would have thought nigh on impossible. But the road was actually smoother than the county highway had been.

Maureen scanned the map quest directions, scribbled onto a sheet of notebook paper. She glanced up at the road periodically, looking for signs and house numbers.

"There." She pointed. "That's the mailbox, the right number. Turn here."

The Clearwater driveway was a long dirt road, bumpy but not horribly so. Maureen told Mike to stop the car just as the house pulled into view around the curve of the road.

"It'll take less than ten minutes, I promise." She said, putting on her backpack as she climbed out of the car. "Just sit tight."

"I could drive you closer—" Mike said.

"I'm good!" Maureen was already trotting towards the house.

It was a rustic looking house—there was more wood than aluminum siding. But it was large, and sturdy looking. Maureen climbed a short row of steps onto the porch, and knocked on the front door. Almost immediately she heard a muffled altercation—two high voices, that sounded like they were arguing. After a short minute, Maureen knocked again. Ten seconds later, the door opened. Behind the threshold stood a girl a little older than Maureen. She held a cordless phone in her hand, curled up against her shoulder to muffle the sound. She was strikingly pretty—long eyelashes, and long black hair caught up in a loose braid. Her expression, however, was less than pleasant.

"Can I help you?" She asked, tone suggesting the opposite.

"Hello, is this the Clearwater residence?" Maureen asked.

"Yeah." The girl said.

Maureen attempted her best trust-me smile. "Great. My name is Maureen Stanley, I moved to Forks a couple months ago. I need to speak with your Father about…well, a supernatural neighborhood watch, I guess."

Maureen knew it was the wrong thing to say before she even finished saying it. The girl had no idea what she was talking about, and was starting to look pissed.

The girl raised the phone to her ear. "I'll call you back in a minute, Sam."

She pressed the end call button and dropped the phone on a table next to the door.

"Now look here, crazy—" She began.

"I need to speak with Harold Clearwater." Maureen said. "Is he home?"

"I don't care what you're selling, we don't want it." The girl declared.

"I'm not selling—ah, screw this." Maureen crossed the threshold and moved past the girl. Like Jasper had in the Volvo, the girl reflexively stepped back to maintain a personal boundary.

Maureen stepped into the big front room of the house. The living room was through an open archway—there was a younger boy sitting on the couch, looking up from a book.

"Shit! Dad!" The girl shouted. "Dad, there's a crazy white girl in the house!"

"Hey!" Maureen called, raising her voice to match. "Look, Sir. I came because I know about the were—er, the wolf story!" She eyed the boy and girl…Jasper had made it clear that most Quileutes had no idea about their tribe's supernatural bent, and Maureen had no intention of telling Harry Clearwater's children if he hadn't told them himself.

The girl grabbed Maureen's shoulder. "Get out!" She shouted, yanking Maureen backwards.

"I have to tell you something Mr. Clearwater, sir!" Maureen shouted at the air. "It's something you should know."

"Seth, stay where you are!" The girl called to the boy on the couch, as she manhandled Maureen towards the door. "Crazy girl, if you don't get out right now—"

"Leah, let her go." The voice came from upstairs. Heavy footsteps sounded from above, growing louder as they approached the stairwell.

An older man descended the stairs. He had white-gray hair, and a bit of paunch underneath his plaid shirt. He eyed Maureen coolly, his face impassive.

"You need to speak to me?" He said.

Maureen nodded. "Yes, about—things you should know about. Like how you know about the Cullens. I know, too. I know everything, and more. There are things I need to tell you."

Mr. Clearwater's eyes narrowed. Behind him another figure moved down the stairs—a woman, about his age.

"Sue." Mr. Clearwater said in greeting. "I think I'd like to have pizza for dinner. Would you take Leah and Seth and go pick some up?"

The woman looked at him, as if trying to read his face. "Sounds good to me, Harry." She finally said. "If you'll have salad pizza."

Mr. Clearwater made a noise of discontent. "…fine."

The woman smiled, walking towards the door. "Kids, get your coats."

"Mom—" The girl Leah shot Maureen an angry look.

Sue Clearwater was already putting on her jacket. "Come on, now."

"My friend who drove me here, he's waiting for me outside." Maureen said. "So don't worry about the car that's in your driveway."

"Thank you." Sue Clearwater collected her purse, and herded her children outside. The door closed with a solid click.

Maureen turned to face Mr. Clearwater.

"I'm sorry I came into your house uninvited, Mr. Clearwater." Maureen said. "I was afraid if I called, you'd hang up. And I need to speak with you."

"Then we'll speak." Mr. Clearwater motioned towards the living room, Maureen walked to the couch and sat down. "What's your name, dear?"

"Maureen Stanley." Maureen said, as Mr. Clearwater sat down in a large armchair facing her. She hesitated—then spoke again. "But I used to be called Spinner. That's my real name."

"Well, Spinner." Mr. Clearwater said. His voice sounded indulgent, but his face was still unreadable. "You say you know something about wolves, and the Cullens. What might that be?"

Maureen took a deep breath. "The Cullens are vampires." She said. "And Quileutes are werewolves…or some of them are, anyway. Your ancestors found the Cullens out, and forged a truce that kept their secret, and also kept them off your territory."

Mr. Clearwater's eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. Maureen gave him a long look.

"You didn't think I knew all that." She said.

Mr. Clearwater looked upset for a moment, then his face relaxed slightly. "I was certainly hoping you didn't." He said. "But you seem to be in the thick of it. Poor girl. What did they do to you?"

"They didn't do anything, short of making snide comments." Maureen said. "I'm not caught up in some dangerous vampire conspiracy. I'm my_ own_ conspiracy…I'm not entirely human. I'm a…a…"

_Oh, screw this._

"…a world-hopper."

Mr. Clearwater looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or be upset. "You're a _what_?"

"Sorry, that's not accurate. That's a dumb way of saying it." Maureen said quickly. "There's no proper name for what I am. But I have the power to move between perspectives—parallel universes, you might say. That's how I came here. I moved between perspectives to get to Forks."

Harry Clearwater seemed to be trying to take it all in. Maureen felt desperation rise in her throat. Her whole life, she'd been preoccupied with keeping her true nature a secret. Only just now did she realize how hard the reverse was to prove.

"Please give me the benefit of the doubt." Maureen begged. "You know people who can turn into werewolves. Wouldn't it make sense that other strange things existed too?"

Mr. Clearwater stared at Maureen for another ten seconds. He finally gave a sort of half-shrug.

"'Werewolf' isn't the exact word." He said. "'Shape-shifter' would be better."

His words were like acquiescence. Maureen let loose a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

"You mean they can change into other creatures?" She asked politely.

Mr. Clearwater reached towards a small table beside the armchair. He opened a box sitting on the table, and pulled out a pipe. "No, just wolves."

_Then you say 'werewolf'._ Maureen thought, despite her gratitude. _Shape-shifter implies multiple shapes...a shape-shifter who can only turn into a werewolf _is _a werewolf. __I'm sensing contrivance here. Whatever Forks did to make vampires stupid, it's probably made the werewolves dumb too._

"I'm sorry, but you don't…" Mr. Clearwater waved his pipe at Maureen, before filling it with tobacco. "You don't look like a…a world-jumper, or whatever you said. Or like anything noticeably unhuman, for that matter. In all honesty, you _do_ look like a crazy white girl."

"I don't have much I can show you." Maureen confessed. "I know it's difficult, me asking you to believe something that's almost impossible to prove."

Harry Clearwater struck a match against the table, and lit his pipe. He puffed thoughtfully for a moment.

"Could you show me another world?" He said.

Maureen shook her head. "You're in this perspective. You're a part of it. You can't leave this place, or see any other."

Forks clicked at the back of Maureen's head, confirming her words. Harry Clearwater was important to this place. Forks wouldn't _ever _let Harry Clearwater go….until the time was right.

The last bit leapt into her mind unbidden. Maureen shuddered. To have a whole perspective working towards your specifically-timed demise…it wasn't uncommon. But that didn't make it any less horrible.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you any proof." Maureen said. "What I am is kind of stupidly complicated. But I wanted to let the Quileutes know about me—at least the ones who know about vampires and werewolves. I figured it was the neighborly thing to do. I don't want to hurt the Cullens, and I certainly don't want to hurt you and yours. I hope you mean no harm to me."

Mr. Clearwater looked highly skeptical. But he nodded. "Alright. Crazy or no, you don't seem a bad sort. You're not subtle, as evidenced by forcing your way into my house. But you're not malicious either."

"Thank you." Maureen said. She stood up.

"That's all of your time I need to take, Mr. Clearwater." Maureen said. "Just please let your people know that I'm harmless."

Harry Clearwater stood as well.

"I suppose your honesty is worth a bit of mutual trust." He said. "I'll pass the news around to those who should hear it, if that's what you want."

Maureen smiled. "I imagine you'll tell them I might be crazy, though. No matter. I still think this was the polite thing to do. Have a good day, sir."

Maureen left the Clearwater house, and went back to the car. Mike was lounging in the driver's seat, listening to the radio.

"I told you it would be quick." Maureen said. "Come on, it's time to make it up to you. You can have whatever you want."

Mike grinned.

Maureen hadn't been there yet, but _The Lounge_ was easy to find. It was the only non-chain restaurant in Forks.

"Sorry again about leaving you outside." Maureen said, after their food arrived. "I kind of used you. And your car."

Mike shrugged. "Hey, not a problem. You were up front about it when you asked. And I get a free deluxe bacon cheeseburger out of this. So no hard feelings."

Maureen smiled. "Good, I'm glad." She dug into her own burger, hungry with relief.

The visit to the reservation could have been a lot worse. She was lucky Harry Clearwater had been predisposed to accepting weird things, even without proof.

"Um." Mike said loudly, interrupting Maureen from her thoughts. "But…are you sure this isn't a date?"

Maureen was mid bite into her hamburger. She hastily chewed and swallowed.

"Putting aside the fact that I just confessed to _using you_, I said it wasn't a date." She said. "Did I not say that several times when you asked during history class?"

"Yeah, well." Mike picked up a French fry from his plate and examined it. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Or you were playing hard to get."

_I was wrong. It's not just Edward and his self-righteousness. _Every_ boy here lives in a delusion._ Maureen rolled her eyes.

"Mike, I'm pretty much inhaling my food here. No socially conscious girl eats like a horse when she's on a date."

"Oh." Mike look dejected. Maureen bit her lip, trying to think of something encouraging to tell Mike without accidentally giving him the 'let's be friends' speech.

"You goof off more often than not, Mike. But you're friendly and from what I can tell, relatively sane. And you're awesome at class projects." Maureen put her hamburger down. "Trust me, you don't have to settle. There are prettier girls out there."

Mike shrugged. "You're pretty." He said, running a hand through his hair. "And your clothes are interesting. And you're not afraid to speak your mind."

Maureen felt her cheeks grow warm. _I hate you. _She thought to herself. _For being a girl, I hate you._

"Not to sound extremely self-deprecating, but I bet I'm not your first choice." Maureen said. "I have acne, and hair the color of sandy dirt. You could do infinitely better."

"Well, apparently no one else wants to go out with me." Mike complained. "You're the closest thing to a date I've had since ninth grade."

"Oh _no_. You haven't had a date in _months_. Whatever will you do?" Maureen said, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.

_It's my fault for playing the 'you could do better' head game._ She thought. _Either he would confess to wanting better, or try excessively to boost my self-esteem…neither of which I cared to hear. Good grief, being a teenager sucks. I don't even _want_ to date him, and I _still_ feel heartache at a vague rejection!_

"Look, it shouldn't be such a big deal." Maureen said. "Dating, I mean. We're swamped in hormones, but we have our whole lives ahead of us. Don't worry about not having a love interest right now. You can just be your own person, and if someone great comes along, _then _go for it."

Mike laughed. "I'm not that patient."

"I promise, not having a date in the 10th grade will be of no consequence in three or four years." Maureen said. "What matters is that we treat each other decently. So long as we aren't…well, _malicious_…and so long as we don't go out of our way to really hurt people, it's okay. Most teenage transgressions are forgivable."

Mike took a bite out of his cheeseburger. "You don't think I'm malicious, do you? You said I goof off—"

"You're obnoxious sometimes, but definitely not malicious." Maureen said. "The only people I'd say are seriously sadistic at our school are Lauren Mallory and Edward Cullen. And only in a very passive, verbal sort of way."

"Cullen's a snob, I agree." Mike said. "But Lauren's cute."

"And you're still thinking with the contents of your pants." Maureen grinned, to show she wasn't really mad. "Come on, eat your fries or I'll steal them."

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Please Read & Review! :D


	16. Crazy Revelations

Thanks lil artist (or short lil ninja…if that is your real name! 0.o) for your reviews. I like how you summarized the information I've given you, better than I might have. I hope your questions will all be answered by this chapter.

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Crazy Revelations

Halloween turned out to be rather fun, in a vaguely exasperating sort of way. As Aunt Joan insisted that Jessica bring Maureen to Tyler Crowley's Halloween party, Maureen was saved from handing candy out to little cowboys and princesses dressed in polyester.

"Do you really hate stuff like fake fleece and rayon that much?" Jessica had asked.

"I'm not gonna say they're not useful." Maureen said. "Artificial fabric has saved more lives than we can count. But those kinds of fibers are synthetic, and they feel wrong to me. And while insulated plastic jackets and nylon parachutes might be vital, polyester Halloween costumes are _definitely not_."

Jessica dressed in the sexy angel costume Maureen had made for her, complete with a halo and wings made out of cotton strips and wire. After some thought, Maureen decided to go dressed as a traditional gypsy: lots of colorful fabric, baggy skirt and shirt, and cleavage entirely optional. The party itself was more low-key than Maureen expected. There was probably alcohol and cigarettes being passed around somewhere, but it wasn't out in the open. With good reason: Tyler's parents were walking through the house like two bouncers at a rave.

"When do we get to go to a party with drinking, Maureen?" Jess said, plopping herself down on the couch next to her cousin. "Not that I _want_ to get plastered and go hurl in a toilet. But drinking's fun, right?"

Maureen winced at the loud objection in her head. Not only did Forks frown on casual (or possibly most) forms of sex, it wasn't in favor of drinking or smoking either.

"Legal age is twenty-one, technical age is eighteen." Maureen said to Jessica. "And the only fun thing about drinking is when you do it with people you care about. Most alcohol tastes awful."

Jess turned to look at Maureen, eyes bugged out. "_You've had alcohol before?_" She hissed, torn between outrage and delight.

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like a glass of wine, or _one _tequila sunrise. I've never been 'plastered' as you put it."

"Who? Where?"

Maureen's eyelid twitched. "With friends I used to have, in Sacramento. We'd get tipsy and sing songs. It's really not a big deal."

"Yes it is." Jess said excitedly. "Maureen, I thought you were a total wimp!"

"Thanks, Jess." Maureen said.

She waved her empty plastic cup. "I'm gonna take my wimp ass over to the punch bowl and get a refill. That okay with you?"

"Sure." Jess said, apparently oblivious to Maureen's tone. "Hey, if you see Mike could you bring him back over here with you?"

_Son of a—_

Maureen forced her voice to sound casual. "And why would I do that, Jess?"

Jessica crossed and re-crossed her legs. "Well, I think he's kinda cute. And ever since he drove you around for that extra-credit assignment, you and he have been really chummy. But he says he's not dating you. So I figure you could introduce me to him, put in a good word for me—"

"Stop right there." Maureen said. "No way in hell."

"C'mon Maureen, you have to! We're blood!" Jess whined.

"I don't care if we're _chocolate pudding_." Maureen said. "Mike is my friend, I am not going to push you on him like a deranged salesman. If you really like him, just go up and talk to him."

"Do you think that would work?" Jess bit her lip.

"Sure. Mike's a nice guy, and except for a few careless habits, you're a nice girl. Just be yourself."

"Hm." Jess looked thoughtful. "Maybe first you could put in a good word for me with Edward Cullen? I know you talk to him a bunch in your English class."

"_Jess_!"

"What? Mike's your friend; _Edward's_ not. You bitch about him too much. But you _are _closer to him than any girl in school who's not his sibling."

"What the hell did I just say about pimping you o—wait." Maureen said. "If you're still holding out for Edward, does that make Mike your second best?"

"Well, Edward _is_ cuter than Mike." Jess said. "He's the hottest boy in school, hands down."

Maureen slapped her forehead. "Ugh! I hate that, Jess. It's not just cruel to Mike; it's cruel to yourself. I hate people making lists, ranking boys and settling for the best they can get. I won't settle. I'll have who I want, or nothing."

"You don't want anyone!" Jess protested.

_Exactly._ Maureen thought. _I went with the nothing._

Maureen was still in a rotten mood about Jess' dating schemes the following Monday. She decided a good way to get rid of her irritation was a good old-fashioned venting session. Preferably with someone who wouldn't tell the whole school what she said.

She found Rosalie in the hallway. "Can we take a walk at lunch?" Maureen asked. "I feel the urge to rant."

Rosalie was surprisingly willing to listen to Maureen yell. They walked along the perimeter of the back soccer field, the blonde vampire smiling in bemusement. Maureen didn't care. She imagined she did look funny, shouting and gesticulating wildly.

"…and so she said if she couldn't mack on Edward, she'd be willing to _stoop_ to Mike!" Maureen said. "Like people are goddamn _dresses_—can't get the perfect one? Oh well, find the next best! Son of a _bitch_…"

Rosalie laughed. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah." Maureen said. She felt worn out, too. "Distract me from this shit. Did you like the clothes?"

Maureen had completed the final outfit for Rosalie the previous Friday, and handed them all over to her at lunch; wrapped in a dress bag from the last time the Uncle Thomas had sent his suits to the cleaners'. Rosalie nodded.

"Yes, they all fit gorgeously." She said. "And thank you for the corset, too. It was a nice surprise."

"You're very welcome." Maureen said. I've had that violet colored silk around for at least a month, there wasn't anything else I could think to use it for. Consider it on the house. I knew it would look great on you."

"It did." Rosalie looked smug. Then she frowned.

"What?" Maureen said.

"What were you thinking just then? When I said it looked good on me."

"I was imagining how the corset fit you." Maureen said. "You asking me what I was thinking…that's a very probing, Edward sort of question. Why do you ask?"

Rosalie stopped walking; she looked frustrated.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" She said.

Maureen stopped and looked at her. "That's a dumb question. Yes, you're pretty. Objectively and subjectively, you're very beautiful."

"I know. Does that make me a bad person? Does it make me more of a monster?"

"What, being beautiful?" Maureen was getting very confused.

"Knowing I'm beautiful." Rosalie twisted her fingers together. "Edward's an ass. But he's right about a lot of things, because he can read people's innermost thoughts. And he says you're very judgmental."

"…He's not wrong." Maureen said. "I do judge pretty much everything and everyone. But so does he, and I think he does it worse."

"Exactly!" Rosalie said. "You do express it a bit. But not as much as he claims. He seems worse than you. He doesn't like how vain I am."

Maureen put a hand to her head, trying to work out the riddle that Rosalie was creating with her evasive remarks.

"…are you wondering if _I _think you're vain?"

Rosalie looked embarrassed, and angry with herself for being so. "It shouldn't matter." She said. "I know I'm exquisite, nothing will ever change that. What you think shouldn't matter!"

Maureen grinned.

"And that, Rosalie, is why you are less of a pain in the ass then Edward." Maureen said. "Because you understand that when it comes to trivial matters, you shouldn't care what I think. Or what anyone thinks. Which is all Edward really focuses on, when it comes to people outside his family."

"For the record." Maureen continued. "I do think you're vain. You're a full-out narcissist, even considering that your beauty is an objective fact. But you also love your boyfriend—"

"Husband."

"—husband, sure. You care about your family. And unlike Edward, you are not overly critical of the people around you."

"I compare their faces to mine." Rosalie said.

"Who cares? Faces are skin fucking deep. Edward criticizes people's _thoughts_, their _minds_, only offering occasional grudging respect for their actions. But it's actions and choices that show the true color of a person, not their _private_ thoughts."

Rosalie nodded, but she didn't look elated.

"Come on, what else?" Maureen motioned for Rosalie to keep talking. "I just used you for venting, now use me. What else is bothering you?"

"I want to ask you some more questions." Rosalie said.

Maureen hadn't anticipated that.

"Okay. Shoot."

"Where are you from?"

Maureen made a confused face. "You know I'm from Sacramento. The whole school knows. Edward reads my _mind _on a semi-regular basis."

"I don't mean where you were born." Rosalie said. "I mean your sort of creature. Whatever you are. I know you say there's no name. But you _have_ to give me more information than that."

_Ah._ Maureen thought. _This, I should have expected. Paranoid vampires and whatnot._

"Edward read your mind, saw your family." Rosalie said. "Dad and Stepmother, the Stanleys in Forks, what your life was like in California. And he says that you don't see Sacramento and Forks as being the _same_ Sacramento and Forks. I'm sorry, he wasn't very clear about it."

Maureen took a deep breath. Edward had hit the nail on the head, even if he had no idea what he was hammering. But of course he'd discover everything eventually, if he wanted to. Forks loved him. This place thought he was the Second goddamn Coming, and treated him as such. It didn't matter if the kids at school disliked Edward Cullen, or if Maureen outright hated him…what was her hate compared to the adoration of Fate itself?

And that aside, Rosalie ought to be told. Maureen had let some of it slip to Harry Clearwater, and she barely knew him. She owed the Cullens a little more information.

"Edward was right." Maureen said. "The Sacramento where I used to live is not in the same perspective…world…as the Forks where we're standing now. There's more than one Forks."

Rosalie looked puzzled, but not skeptical. "You jump between parallel universes?"

"That's not all of it, even." Maureen said. "Yes, I can walk to places no one else can reach. But it's only a side part."

Maureen rubbed her chin, trying to phrase her words in the best way possible.

My proper name is Spinner." Maureen said. "That's really it. Everything I am is tied up in the idea of turning natural fibers into cloth. That's why I can use fiber for things like divination, or protection. I'm connected to cloth, and its construction. I suppose you could say I'm part human, part concept. And I can go anywhere my concept exists. Since the premise that fibers become cloth exists in Forks and the world around it, I was able to travel here."

Rosalie looked like she was actually following along. "If you're part human, where does the concept part come from?"

"My mother." Maureen said. "My biological mother. She's part of a concept too. She's the…the predatory nature of arachnids. More or less."

Maureen shrugged awkwardly. "It sounds stupid when I say it. But what I am is passed down genetically. It's not too large of a leap…spiders spin and weave too."

"Where's your mother now? Edward couldn't see her in your mind."

"I don't think about her much." Maureen scrubbed a hand across her eyes. "She left when I was old enough to mind myself. She went adventuring."

"Adventuring?"

"In the parallel universes. Except we don't call them that. We say 'place' or 'perspective', because they're not parallel or separate to us. They're just places other people can't see. But my kind, we can go lots of places. Places you couldn't imagine, except as stories or dreams. It's an inherent ability. I'm not actually very good at doing it by myself. But I've been all sorts of places, with others of my kind."

Maureen's eyes lit up. "It was so much fun, just _visiting_ all those places. A city made of green glass. A place where objects have souls, and toys come to life when you're not looking. A vast kingdom of ash and fire, populated by hideous goblins, and ghosts who ride winged beasts. A wild forest, with six-legged horses and orange dragon lizards, and plants that sing to you…"

Sensing a silence, Maureen trailed off. She looked at the blonde vampire. Rosalie was standing absolutely still, not even breathing. She looked utterly shocked, gold eyes fixed on Maureen's face, unblinking.

"They're real." Maureen said. "They're as real as you are, Rosalie. But I'm the only one in Forks who can perceive them. That's why I call myself crazy. Being insane just means not having the same perspective as the people around you. And I don't see things how everyone else does."

"The way you talk…" Rosalie blinked, and shook her head. "Edward says your mind looks like a tapestry. It's more than that. You talk strange too. And those impossible places…I can't understand you. Edward must have hell, looking into your mind. He says beyond your surface thoughts, it's hard to get a grip."

"Does it bug him?" Maureen asked.

Rosalie laughed, softly. "Not much. He dismisses it as your 'unhuman' way of looking at things. The werewolves' thoughts are a bit odd to him too."

Maureen shoved her hands in her pockets.

"I don't like talking about this stuff, you know." She said. "This is the most private part of me. I can't believe I'm trusting you, _your family,_ with even some of it."

"You _can _trust us." Rosalie said stubbornly. "We won't tell anyone."

Maureen nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rosalie smiled, the stubborn look still on her face. "You know, Maureen-or-Spinner…you interest me. You don't care that I like myself so much. And you look so strangely at things, judge them so strangely. You're not human. But you're worth knowing."

Maureen laughed. "Nice compliment."

"You know what I mean." Rosalie said.

"Yeah, I do."

The two began walking again.

* * *

**Because the next chapter is the last, (in this story, anyway) I'm going to lay all my cards on the table. Maureen Stanley isn't a specific creature from mythology. I didn't give her species a name because I didn't want to saddle what she is with some stupid, mystical title. Besides, Maureen's kind of creature is far-ranging, and like people who live far away from each other, they would all have different ways of defining themselves.**

**While the 'concept of turning fiber into cloth' part of Maureen's species is strictly something of my own invention, essentially she's what I've been saying all along…a Mary-Sue. **

**By definition, Mary-Sues can be written into any story…nothing is sacrosanct to a fanfic author, Mary-Sues are everywhere. So Maureen can go to any world she can conceive of.**

**Also, Mary-Sues almost always have powers, or are special in some way. I decided that Maureen's species would all have unique but limited powers, based on an individual arbitrary concept. That makes each one of them 'magical and special in some way'.**

**Lastly, Mary-Sues are more or less always inserted into the 'important' storyline in a given world. They have the ability to meet the main characters, and get involved in the main plot. But how would the Mary-Sue know what was 'important' unless the universe itself told them? A visitor to the world of Harry Potter might think that Dumbledore was the main character and Harry was just one of many good guys working for him…but Rowling tells us otherwise. So that universe would whisper to Maureen 'Harry Potter is the center of it all'.**

Once again, please Read & Review!

Also, a Little Quiz…Maureen mentioned visiting four places, when she was describing her travels to Rosalie. They reference popular stories. Try and guess which ones they are. :D


	17. Scary Sparkles

**So this is the last chapter…of this story, anyway. I'm planning sequels. More on that later, at the bottom of the chapter.**

Hidden Traces and lil artist, thank you for your reviews, and your participation in my little informal quiz-thing. I suppose the 'plants that sing to you' part was a bit too obscure. Here are the answers.

_A city made of green glass._ – The Wizard of Oz, specifically the Emerald City

_A place where objects have souls, and toys come to life when you're not looking._ – Toy Story

_A vast kingdom of ash and fire, populated by hideous goblins and ghosts who ride winged beasts._ – Lord of the Rings, specifically Mordor

_A wild forest, with six-legged horses and orange dragon lizards, and plants that sing to you_ – James Cameron's Avatar

* * *

Scary Sparkles

"Come on, Uncle Thomas." Maureen said. "I just want to go exploring."

Thomas Stanley eyed his niece. "What's wrong with the woods behind the house?"

_You think that's any less wild? If you knew how far into the woods I go back there, you'd flip a shit._ Maureen thought.

"I've been all over there." Maureen said. "I want to go someplace else. And the trails east of here are totally safe, you know that."

"Why don't you go with Jessica?" Uncle Thomas said. "Or we could have a family outing one weekend, and all four of us could go."

"It's November." Maureen said. "Aunt Joan won't want to go anywhere _near _the woods until April, at least. Same with Jess. I just want to get in some good solid outdoor time before the snow starts to fall in giant blankets, and I can't go outside anymore."

Thomas took his glasses off, and put them on the desk.

He turned back to Maureen. "My bike needs to come back in the exact same condition it is when you leave here. You also need to come back before dark. If you break curfew, I'm grounding you until Thanksgiving…of _next year_."

Maureen nodded. "Yes, Uncle Thomas. I promise I'll be careful."

Maureen's reason for wanting to visit the hiking trails was only partially a lie. She did want to explore one last time before fall was finally over, to see if there were any fiber plants still alive. Of course, that would require going quite a ways off the aforementioned trails. But Maureen had her compass, and another hand-drawn map. It wouldn't be any different from the forest behind the Stanley house.

Maureen rode to the hiking trails. By bike, it took about a half hour. She couldn't wait until she had her driver's license, and could travel more than twenty mph. She chained her Uncle's bike at the Ranger's station near the start of the trails, then picked a path at random. After ten minutes, she tied a scrap of red cotton to a tree to mark her place, and went off-trail.

In this heavily forested area, plants were thick on the ground. Maureen found large patches of stinging nettles, spread out across wide distances. She found herself walking quicker than usual, racing to find the next patch, to cut the stalks and toss them in her foraging pack. As if gathering as many as possible would make up for the long winter, when there was nothing to forage for. Maureen walked and walked, until one compartment of her pack was literally full to bursting. She leaned against a tree, and dropped her pack to the ground. She stretched, rolling her shoulders.

"Break time." She announced to no one. She slumped down against the tree, and pulled a bottle of water and an apple out of the pack's front pocket. The water in the bottle had frost on the surface. Maureen grimaced—it was definitely getting too cold.

_This is what I get for moving to Washington. _She shrugged. Like everything else, it didn't have to be a problem. Winter was only a pain if Maureen thought it was a pain.

_It will be pretty._ She thought to herself, trying to see the positive in a rural winter wonderland.

A soft rumbling sound shook Maureen from her thoughts. Capping the water bottle, she stood up, and looked around the tree. She couldn't see anything—the forest was too dense. But the rumbling was growing louder. It sounded like drums, or—

_Hoofbeats._ Maureen thought. _Deer. Lots of deer, probably. With sharp hooves and pointy antlers. Shit._

Maureen stepped backwards until her feet were balanced on the roots of the tree. She pressed herself against the trunk, and tried to think slim thoughts.

_They'll run around the tree, they'll run around the tree._ She thought, keeping herself calm. _Deer don't run into trees. They will not hit me._

The rumbling grew louder, until it was nearly on top of her. A brown shape whizzed past Maureen. Then another, and another, and another—

_That's ten, that's at least ten._ Maureen thought. _That's a big fucking herd, even—_

The side of the tree exploded. Woodchips flew everywhere, and something slammed into Maureen's arm. She was on the ground—and her shoulder was on fire. Maureen tried to scream, but the wind had been knocked out of her. Hands were on her back, grabbing her around the waist. She was flipped over.

"Maureen!" Alice Cullen's face was right above hers. "Maureen, are you okay?"

Maureen took a ragged breath. "My shoulder." She gasped out. "Fuck, my shoulder hurts! Owowow-" Maureen ran out of air, and went back to spluttering.

"It's dislocated." This was a voice Maureen had never heard before. A pale woman with caramel colored hair moved into Maureen's line of vision.

"Can you fix that?" Alice asked.

The woman bit her lip. "I've done it before, but the last time was almost fifteen years ago. Alice, what can you…?"

Alice's eyes unfocused for a moment, then fixed on Maureen again. "You can do it, Esme." She said. "Now."

The caramel-haired woman—Esme—nodded. "Hold her down."

Alice put one hand on Maureen's good shoulder, the other on her waist. In between coughs, Maureen realized that she was being more or less pushed into the ground. She tried to wriggle—she could barely move.

"Hold still, Maureen." Esme took hold of Maureen's aching, twisted arm, and pulled—

When she was ten, Maureen had fallen down a flight of stairs, and landed on her knee. It had swelled up to the size of a grapefruit, and had been black and blue for a month. This hurt worse.

"EAARGGHH!" Maureen howled. She sucked air into her lungs. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Esme released Maureen's arm. "Edward did have a point about her language." She said.

Alice moved her hands, lifting Maureen into a sitting position. "We're glad you're okay." She said.

"Ahhh, um, I think I'm not quite _okay_." Maureen said, feeling slightly hysterical. "But I'm alive."

"That counts as okay in my book." Esme held out her hand. Maureen lifted her good arm, and took the woman's hand in hers. The fingers were ice cold.

_Surprise surprise._ Maureen thought.

"I'm Esme Cullen." Esme said. "Carlisle's wife. It's good to meet you. I'm sorry about the circumstances, though."

"What the hell happened?" Maureen asked. Her right shoulder still ached fiercely, but the horrific pain had gone away. Plus, she could move it a little.

"Something less horrible than I thought, even though we were late." Alice said grimly.

"Mind explaining that a little better, Miss Precognitive?" Maureen snapped.

"Is she always like this?" Esme asked Alice.

"I think the circumstances are making her crabbier, but yes."

"Shit, fine, I'm sorry for my attitude." Maureen said. "Please, what the hell just happened? Did I get trampled by a deer?"

"You got trampled by _Jasper_, Maureen." Alice said. "He and Edward were hunting; they just chased a herd of deer right through here. Edward was probably focusing solely on the herd. And Jasper was concentrating so hard on one of them, he ran right through the side of the tree—right into you."

Maureen looked up at the tree in front of her—the one she'd been hiding behind. A huge, piece of the trunk was missing. It looked like someone had gouged a hole along the side of it, five or six feet tall.

"The boys haven't eaten in over a week." Esme said. "And Alice had a vision—"

"I saw them hunting." Alice said. "I saw them chasing a herd of deer, and you were standing out in the open, and Jasper just plowed straight into you. If you were a normal person he probably would have smelled you. But you're not, and he was too focused on his prey. I saw him in the vision, Maureen. He ran right into you, and fed from you."

Maureen felt she should probably be freaking out more than she currently was.

"…I thought my blood wasn't appetizing." Maureen said.

"There are very few things that Jasper _won't _eat when he's hungry and set on a kill." Alice said. Her voice was level, but Maureen could hear the soft sadness in her voice. "And if he'd hit you dead on, there would have been a lot of broken bones…and blood. Fresh blood outside the body is hard to resist."

"But I wasn't out in the open." Maureen said. "I heard the deer coming, and hid behind the tree. You didn't see that?"

"I don't see you very well in my visions, Maureen." Alice said. "You're not human. But I can see you when you affect my family, or if my family affects you. I couldn't see that you were going to hide. All I knew was that if you were in the midst of the deer, you were going to die."

"I was the only one in the house, so we both ran here as quickly as we could." Esme explained. "You're extremely lucky, as far as I can tell. Hitting the tree first slowed Jasper down, and he only struck the edge of your shoulder. You were lucky to get up alive, let alone with just a dislocation."

Maureen shook her head. This was all too much to take in. And, she suspected when she was more clearheaded, she'd see exactly how _stupid _it was, too.

"Help me up, please." Maureen said. Alice grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her up until she was standing.

Maureen's legs shook a little, but she could stand on her own.

"Where's Jasper now?" She said. "Or Edward?"

"We let them keep running." Alice said. "Best if they finish hunting first."

"Okay." Maureen said. She looked around.

"Um…I kind of don't want to tell my family that I dislocated my shoulder while walking off trail. And I assume you don't want me to tell anyone either."

Esme laughed; it was a light, pleasant sound. "That would be preferable, yes."

Maureen tried moving her right shoulder a little more. "It aches like hell." She said. "I think ice is in order. And there's no way in hell I'm biking back."

"We can drive you home." Esme said. She looked at Alice. "I'll go get Emmett's jeep, and meet you and Maureen at the empty Ranger's station. Help her walk down."

Alice nodded. Esme turned, and took off in a blur of movement that shook the underbrush.

"You guys run fast." Maureen said dumbly. She cursed her brain. _Understatement of the century._

Alice nodded. She picked up Maureen's foraging pack off the ground. "Come on." She said. "Put your good arm around my shoulder. I'll help you back."

Maureen and Alice said very little as they picked their way slowly through the forest. Occasionally, Maureen would ask something, and Alice would respond.

"How long will it take them to finish hunting?" Maureen asked.

"They're already done." Alice said. "But Jasper is…upset. Edward's read my mind, and told Jasper what he almost did. I think they might take a while to come back to us."

"Jasper shouldn't be _that_ messed up." Maureen said. "It was an accident."

Alice frowned. "When almost all of one's 'accidents' end in death, they tend to weigh heavier on the soul."

"Oh, so you _do_ believe vampires have souls." Maureen said. "Edward and Rosalie seem to think otherwise."

"I'm not sure if I have a soul." Alice said. "But I'm capable of love. I love Jasper, and Edward and Carlisle and Esme, and Rosalie and Emmett. I think that's what counts."

"That's a better theory than 'I'm a monster, watch me whine'." Maureen said. "Though I don't think your definition of love is the same as mine."

Alice gave Maureen a puzzled look. "What's your definition of love?"

"I'm not sure yet." Maureen said.

Once they reached the trail, it was an easy walk downhill. Esme was already in the parking lot, with the jeep. And so was Rosalie.

"She must have been home when Esme got there." Alice said.

As they reached the end of the trail, Maureen saw that Edward and Jasper were alsoin the lot, standing a ways away. The former looked angry, and the latter looked absolutely miserable. Maureen made a face—both had clearly attempted to clean up, but they still had dried blood around their mouths, and on their fingers.

_Like you don't make a mess eating buffalo wings. Shut up, girl._ Maureen told herself. She took her arm off Alice's shoulder.

"She's fine." Alice said, seeing Rosalie open her mouth. "Her shoulder is sore, but she's hardly even banged up."

"This shouldn't have happened." Edward said darkly. "I'm not blaming you, Alice, not at all. You saved her. But this could have been prevented."

"So what, you're blaming Jasper?" Rosalie said.

"There's no single blame in this." Edward said. "Though I do take full responsibility for not sensing Maureen's mind—"

"Oh, shut up Edward!" Maureen said. "You're so self-important and self-despising, I'm surprised you don't flip inside-out from the contradiction."

She turned to Jasper.

"Will you apologize to me?" Maureen asked.

Jasper looked surprised—as if it hadn't occurred to him that he could do that.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I am _so _sorry I didn't smell you there. I'm sorry I hurt you, and nearly killed you."

"And I'm sorry too." Maureen said. "I promise I won't go wandering around any place you might be hunting, ever again. Or next time, I'll just climb the damn tree."

Alice laughed softly. Jasper managed a small smile.

"Problem solved." Maureen said. "Apologies accepted. No harm done."

"No harm done?" Edward snapped. His face was tense with anger and pain. "You were nearly killed, Maureen. Don't you understand that?"

"I understand it damn well." Maureen said. "I am not a moron. I know full well how close I was to death. But it was a fucking_ accident_, and it wasn't that bad in the end—"

"It'll be worse, next time." Edward said. "If we_ let_ there be a next time."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Maureen said.

"You can't be close to us." Edward said. "You can't come near us. We'll only hurt you. And I refuse to let this family put itself into a position where we could spill innocent blood."

"Oh, so I'm an innocentnow, instead of a bitch?" Maureen scoffed. "You moron, this incident had_ nothing _to do with whether or not I know you guys!"

"If he hadn't known your scent so well before, Jasper might have noticed you." Edward said. "No, we really can't afford—"

"Someone needs to drive her home." Alice interrupted. "We promised to do that."

Edward shot Alice a sharp look, which she met with her wide-eyed gaze. The two seemed to be engaged in a short staring war. Silence filled the air.

"Esme, will you help Rosalie and I take Maureen home?" Edward said after a time. "I think Jasper and Alice should go back to the house now."

Esme looked around at her four children, then nodded. Alice stepped away from Maureen, and walked over to Jasper. She took his hand, and led him off, slowly, into the woods. Maureen walked over to the bicycle rack, and unlocked her bike. Edward came up behind her, and lifted the bike over his shoulder. He put it in the trunk of the jeep, then did the same for Maureen's bag.

Esme got in the driver's seat, Edward beside her. Rosalie sat behind Esme, and helped Maureen climb into the fourth seat. Esme started the car, and the jeep sped onto the main road. There was silence for a good two minutes.

"Edward—" Maureen began.

He cut her off, without turning his head. "Alice can find no guarantee that something like this won't happen to you again, unless we keep our guard up around you."

"That's what you say." Maureen said. "Mr. Paranoid, Mr. Stick-up-the-ass. What do you know?"

"If Edward has seen no alternatives in Alice's mind—if _Alice_ sees no alternatives, and makes no protest," Esme said. "Then our course is set. We're a family, and we need to protect each other. Edward's reaction is correct."

Maureen turned her head. "Rosalie?"

Rosalie's mouth and chin were set in that stubborn look of hers. But her eyes looked defeated.

"If we hurt you." She said. "It's not just you who gets hurt. It puts us all in danger. We can't risk that. You can't look for us outside of school, you can't come near us. We can't be friends anymore."

Maureen was flabbergasted.

"So that's it, then?" Maureen said. "What, was getting to know me some sort of experiment? A test that you all failed?"

Maureen squeezed her eyes shut. "Dear lord. I'm like Jessica. I'm just one of the useless people than dance around you. And even if I'm not, that's the only way you lot can ever_ treat_ people."

"You're not useless." Esme said, turning down the first residential street in Maureen's neighborhood.

"Thanks for the kind words, _Ma'am_, but I hardly know you." Maureen said. "I don't think I know any of you. There's nothing to know."

Esme screeched the car to a halt, outside Maureen's house.

"That was fast." Maureen remarked. "I don't even want to know how many miles over the speed limit you were going. Or how you knew where I lived without asking me, _like a polite person would_."

Edward climbed out of the car without a word. He lifted Maureen's bike and foraging pack out of the jeep's trunk, and set them on the grass next to the Stanley mailbox. Maureen climbed out of the car, and slammed the door with her left arm. Edward brushed past her, and got back into the passenger seat.

Maureen looked up at the sound of the backseat window rolling down.

"Maureen." Rosalie said. Her face was a mixture of emotions, and difficult to read. "Spinner—"

"Don't call me that." Maureen's voice was flat. "That was what my friends called me, my dearest closest ones. I haven't got any of those here. I doubt I ever will…certainly not you lot. You can be kind, you can be funny, you can even be good. But you're all hollow and twisted up; in awful ways I don't wish to understand. You're all _poorly manufactured_. And the things you do are absolute, contrived bullshit."

"But you know what?" Maureen said, with complete honesty. "It's fine. I don't need you any more than you need me. None of you are so important to my existence that I need to waste my time going through pointless, drawn-out drama just to hang on to you. Nothing should _ever _be than important."

Maureen slung her foraging pack over her good shoulder, and hauled her bike towards the garage, grasping the crux of the handle in her left hand.

She heard the jeep make a three-point turn, and speed away. Maureen didn't look back.

~Fin

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Alright, that's the end of this story! Thanks so much for everyone who came along for the ride, and let me _know _they were along for the ride, by reviewing. Especially repeat reviewers. Love you guys, thanks a bunch!

**So, concerning sequels…the story you've just finished reading took place about a year and a half before Bella shows up. It was essentially a prequel. Now I want to post Maureen's adventures during Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. Well, maybe not Breaking Dawn. Ugh. We'll see.**

**The only issue right now is that the first story…the one that would mirror Twilight…isn't done yet. I've got a lot of pieces written, but the only chapter that's completely ready is the first chapter. So what I'm going to do is post that chapter in a new story tomorrow, so you can add it to Story Alert. Then I'll write up the following chapters, which sadly will take more than one day. So updates will be fewer and far between. But the editing process is crucial to the story not sucking.**

Feel free to leave a last review, to tell me what you thought of the whole thing, and/or to assure me that you're interested in reading the sequel! :D


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